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thanksgiving poem

Gott
hören Sie zum klingenden Meer
Roses und Gold
unter den Rauch und Nebel eines Dezembernachmittages
unter dem Erntemond
sind Sie wach?
nehmen Sie meine Bracelets
mittlere Vergnügen und Paläste, obwohl wir durchstreifen können
die alten Songs
der Geruch von stieg so falsch, die zutreffenden Dornen so
einfach sprechend

 



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