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three poems from when i was age 17 or 18



who

who is like god
and taught me speech,
assisted with some words;

when i am alone
i whisper your name

i cannot describe you
in these messy sentences
a non-believer is not
entitled to more




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next to you

i lay my hand
on your warm front
close your eyes
i sit next to you
and think of you
together we sheltered
from the rain
in the doorway of an
appartment building
you coughed
you were soaked
now sleep
life beats
softly under your skin


j33


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tomorrow

book of my thoughts
full of my years
empty with my future
closely written pages
of solitude
i want to write in you
on tomorrow and tomorrow
every next page
happy days are here again
days that pass
as in my early childhood
but on tomorrow and tomorrow
my pen does not write