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poetry poem

osservi fuori sulle stelle, il mio amore
candele che si rovesciano obliquamente in latte del pomodoro
amilo in fine, o se non
uplifting, come il vento ha saltato
come esso
così perso
benchè repine di amore e strofinio di motivo
piantiamo
quanto selvaggio, come strega-come bizzarro che la vita dovrebbe essere

 



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