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concrete poetry

amilo in fine, o se non
ho lanciato il mondo
sia in me come gli atteggiamenti eternal
con il tramonto
la mia anima va placcata nelle cose gorgeous
ho sentito tutto il giorno il vento
chi è il corridore nei cieli
dalla finestra un mare degli alberi verdi
sono il vento che esita
quando ero si è rotto a Londra
quando i mare-venti hanno perforato i nostri solitudes

 



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