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Bericht von Frau Immer

Late day
no one waits for any bus
how come? The sun
is sweet, the street quiet
and dry
I leave and I don't hear the door closing so the mirage of a standing fleshy feeling remains / pendant hands / it comes in gradient circular surfaces this
non numerical rope

the bridge shuts and collapses as the kingdom of the lamb
savory sparks running through the
neural wires
sinewaves so copious, they reach the small ears as well.

Dense time past noon
not a single electron going away
striding swales
months steady
stable routes bite the knuckles of our / pendant hands / I plan my blessings in this uncountable exit this hanging we always glance at amidst its happening
our voices shed
casting castles on our corneas, love
raising the atmosphere over the cloudy minds,