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birthday poem

so verloren
umsponnen und gesponnen
durch die ausgedehnten schmerzende Brust der Masse
als Meer-Winde unsere Solitudes durchbohrten
während ich das Hören stand, diskret dumb
ich sah die erste Birne
ich weiß nicht wo
alle beruhigen entlang dem potomac
wer den Wind nennen wird

 



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