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prose poetry

ich sah, daß Gott Sie es? bezweifeln
unter den Bergen wandered ich
entlang einem River-side
und noch gingen sie an
mein Sohn ist tot und ich bin gehender Vorhang
wenn der Schleier von den Augen angehoben wird
ein mit Ihnen
er war ein hohes junges oysterman
vor langer Zeit im jungen Moonlight
einige der Hurts, die Sie kuriert haben

 



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