6. Ausgabe - Januar 2026 / 6th Issue - January 2026


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at the top of the top hat stand tall 
rocky peaks glistening glaciers 
up sheer ridge 
warm golden fingers touching my face 
i climbed all alone 

the grass was greenest here of all 
eternal spring garden of eden
suddenly 
for a second too short to grasp
i felt entirely at home  

i understood life before sin and fall
returned to the lost paradise 
then took a 
short nap on a big rock
i was inhumanly whole 


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Heimat
An Withnail

It was here
   This was where I
      Yet so far away remained
         And did embark into every corner

But markets
   I rode were brought
      On barges down twin rivers
         To join the Thames as epithets

Mum dad now
   And then would bring
      Us quiet red holly perhaps.
         She is sung completely now.

But dark mill
   The birds are flown
      One meadow to another
         They have stopped pecking the soil

Heracles
   I put him sound
      Asleep between the lining
         In the pocket of my fleece

But there
   He prays for us
      This holy sorrow of all of us
         In songs where I pretend to be better.


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