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Wenke Fronsdal


Premium (World), miltenberg

twenty.four years

"twenty-four years remind the tears of my eyes.
(bury the dead for fear they will walk to the grave in labour.)
in the groin of the natural doorway i crouched like a tailor sewing a shroud for a journey by the light of the setting sun.
dressed to die, the sensual strut begun, with my red veins full of money,
in the final direction of the elementary town
i advance for as long as forever is."

by the welsh poet DYLAN THOMAS

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