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brother poem

hoch-getragenes Rennen
Ginghamhund und die Kalikokatze
in einem alten Raum beleuchtete weich
Kerzen, die seitlich in den Tomatedosen stürzen
ich sah die erste Birne
wir brechen das Glas dessen sacred Wein
im September
die Schiffe liegen in der Bucht
voll von den Rissen
schauen Sie heraus nach den Sternen, meine Liebe
jetzt, während meine Lippen leben
Ruhe als die zweiter Sommer
wenig Park, den ich durch führe

 



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