Poem – The Cross Near the Edge (By Frank Joussen)
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The Cross Near the Edge A too small cross in a big wayside shrine amidst the fields on the fertile loess soil, soon to be devoured by the bucket wheel excavator, a monstrous word for an even more monstrous machine. The shrine made of dark red brick, plain, simple, solid, almost for eternity, like the many farmhouses here; […]
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