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sex poem

perchč sono le cose che non hanno morte
candele che si rovesciano obliquamente in latte del pomodoro
tutti dentro e tutti senza di me
hanno gettato una pietra, voi hanno gettato una pietra
un pensiero dolce solenne
per questi bracci bianchi circa il mio collo
uno con voi
e con l'uccello di ronzio
sia paziente, vita, quando l'amore č al cancello
siete svegli?

 



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