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death poetry

warum Sie immer der dort shivering Standplatz tun Sie
babylon -- wo ich gehe zu träumen
im Hafen neuen Yorks
meine Mutter twines mich die Roses, die mit Tau naß sind
für dann außen
während ich das Hören stand, diskret dumb
oben auslösen, unten fallend
plötzlich aus den dunklen und belaubten Weisen heraus
die Luft ist wie ein Schmetterling

 



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