Just by way of explaining some of the prose fragments you find in this blog…
Heav’n has no rage, like love to hatred turn’d, Nor hell a fury, like
Berlin
Chilling in Tempelhof
Here I am chilling, perched on top of a magenta pole, at the edge of
Flying over Humboldthain, fragment #1
Today I flew over whatever is left of that neutral zone that was once set