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sex poem

ci erano tre nel prato dal ruscello
molto bene, voi liberali
vado il mio senso complacently
babylon -- dove vado sognare
la nerezza rotola verso l'alto
di ci non era mai un suono al lato il legno ma uno
siete bei e sbiaditi
candele che si rovesciano obliquamente in latte del pomodoro
mondo che cambia sotto la mia mano
il prato stava strisciando
se fossi molto sicuro
dal sud alla rottura del giorno
in sua tenda custodita
amo la mia ora di vento e di luce

 



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