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pumpkin poem

mi domando dove vivete
forse
era l'autunno dell'anno
ultima mezzanotte
sono fevered
morbidamente piangendo
le verità terribili questi sono
gli archi del ponticello rosso
in corridoi di sonno avete vagato vicino
il prato stava strisciando
pharaoh, re della terra dell'egitto
bucks neri grassi in una stanza del vino-barilotto

 



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