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free love poetry

forse è materia che avete morto
con gli occhi meek e marroni
il pietoso piccolo, portato, facce ridere
un gleam di oro il gloom in e gray
quando i mare-venti hanno perforato i nostri solitudes
sto cantando voi
glass-blower di tempo
era l'autunno dell'anno
ho scagliato la mia anima all'aria come un volo del falco

 



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