Inhaltsverzeichnis
Titel
The last breath
The heavy long pipes
If only you and you alone
Pull the splitter
If the baskets
The rim ring
They slip on their knees
Dark ring shadow
Southern Cross
Transience
In germinating fluorescence
O Stone of Tears
Panting, nameless
Mouths are solved
Let the tear drip
Soft waves
Also the light
Finger
Everything
Blown over by the wind
Word crumbs
Out of the blink
What nights
In the waving go
It stays
Whether source or mill
Moments
Latticed
What starts?
In the crowd
Thorns
Hands
Without the effort
It's the big size
They commit the silence
Whether cathedrals
Breathe and build yourself up
From the day wood
Only when you swim boundless
In the angle of refraction
In the fragment tone
All the stories
They are owls
Deep in the gray
The grass
The walls
Your
Midnight digits
The street
Other
The level
Watch out
It was
Panta rhei
Steinwut
What branches out
Heart
Sunday morning
Silent storms
The icy sea
The string
Love over river and sea
At markings
Layered
Out of the snow
Glasses over clock hands
The buttocks
Cats
At the end
About
Skepticism
In the breath
The land of origin
Who is concerned with the yield
The mouth
The country is breaking up
Keeping the cold
In every child's face
So strange
The years of socialism
Where there are stones
Behind the eyes
Where your eye
With your hands you grasp
Stumps
Dreamless
About the curves
I walk through the house
The small room
You beam the sign
Raven beaks croak
At the lavish fountain
If the human
Wind the rope
The scream is racing over the dunes
Behind the tall beech trees
From the upper compartment
There
Back then
Who will us
From the sea of clouds
Wide stride
Eleven finger shade
Just before the morning
With the resurrection
It's the old laugh
The doom of faith
The door is not locked
There is one
If some of the luminous numbers flicker
Who drives the ocean
You do not have to go to the fire
Much is lost in the breath
Under broken crutches
Being lost
There are many suns
Poem
The stepping out of the house
The stone
Up to the shady angle
The sleeping name
From the cortex blood
I got into the well
Well shaft
That's all for the cat
The years, the words
Impressum neobooks
