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pastor appreciation poem

in pieno delle rotture
in qualche luogo ho letto un racconto sconosciuto, vecchio, arrugginito
un poet, prendente il freno fuori della sua linguetta
fiore bianco della gomma piuma, fiore rosso della fiamma
perchč cosě triste mio bello?
prenda i miei bracelets
serene di pomeriggio e luminoso verdi
parla non bene

 



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