She died in Vienna.

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/269494.Friederike_Mayr_cker
(reader reviews)

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Friederike_Mayröcker
(includes bibliography, many awards, and radio plays)

https://www.nytimes.com/2021/06/04/books/friederike-mayrocker-dead.html
(this includes a photo of her wonderfully messy study)

Excerpts:

....She was the recipient of numerous awards, including the 2001 Georg Büchner Prize, one of German literature’s top honors. It was a distinction she shared with several authors who were awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature, including Heinrich Böll, Günter Grass, Elfriede Jelinek and Peter Handke. (She was nominated for the prize in 2004.)

The German Academy for Language and Literature in Darmstadt, which administers the Büchner prize, said in its award citation that Ms. Mayröcker’s work had “made German literature richer in its very own way with its streams of language, word inventions, and associations.”

The writer and translator Ryan Ruby wrote of her, “She is a poet who writes in the intersection between the most personal moment — the passing thought — and the indisputably universal one — individual death.”

....After the death of her companion, the avant-garde writer Ernst Jandl, in 2000, Ms. Mayröcker plumbed the depths of her grief in “Requiem for Ernst Jandl,” a book-length lament. Exhibiting her frequent liberal use of capitalization, it reads in part (translated by Roslyn Theobald):

I saw, I heard the song of a bird
DIE AWAY in an INDIFFERENCE bush,
because I no longer had eyes for it, nothing
but INDIFFERENT bushes and branches and
shrubs and an INDIFFERENT opening of
mouths the passersby and the INDIFFERENT
words of friends and the INDIFFERENT
chirping of this world overflowing with
abundance — nothing of IMPORT, had neither
eyes nor ears for thing and word and image
and bouquet and book and blossom ...

Last paragraphs:

....Ms. Mayröcker’s most recent book, “as mornings and mossgreen I. Step to the window,” published last July, was shortlisted for the 2021 Leipzig Book Fair Prize. The jury that nominated her called attention to the way she “fuses poetry and prose into ‘proems’ full of infatuations, futilities, fantasies, daydreams.”

Summing up her life in “my heart my room my name,” a 1988 story written without punctuation, she chose to put things simply: “I live I write.”

She elaborated in the 2013 Welt interview. “Death is really a tyrant,” she said. “Because you don’t want to leave, but you have to, because he wants you to. You haven’t done everything you want to yet. And I still want so much. I can’t imagine saying at some point before I die: Now enough with the writing.”