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erotic poem

candele che si rovesciano obliquamente in latte del pomodoro
era non per quell'odore singolare
sopra il fiume beckon a me
ascolti il mare suonante
in corridoi di sonno avete vagato vicino
ha detto
una penna di acciaio
l'alba era verde mela
ho scagliato la mia anima all'aria come un volo del falco
come le aquile sul high alto

 



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