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birthday poem

glass-blower di tempo
nel porto di nuovo York
una pesca piccola nel frutteto si sviluppata
nelle mattine nube-grige
ero un goddess ere il marmo lo ha trovato
sedendosi nel suo attuatore che aspetta il vostro t
quale si conservare
che cosa noi ora far
a volte mi domando se realmente allineare
calma come che seconda estate
babylon -- dove vado sognare
spesso non cos?
la signora, il vostro cuore si girata verso polvere

 



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