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grandmother poem

corsa alto-sopportata
ho visto le nubi fra le colline
la figlia, l'arte di thou viene morire
semplicemente parlando
quanto selvaggio, come strega-come bizzarro che la vita dovrebbe essere
sole e vento e battimento del mare
dal sud alla rottura del giorno
braided e tessuto
della l'oscurità e pace nel mia base finale
forse è materia che avete morto
questi sono

 



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