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slam poetry

diami la fame
sono andati i tre, quelle sorelle rare
mentre mi sono levato in piedi ascoltare, discreetly dumb
limps con la fermata del passo doloroso
candele che si rovesciano obliquamente in latte del pomodoro
la notte era nera e drear
i corridoi di marmo resounding lunghi
stuff della luna
tutti si acquietano lungo il potomac
di ci non era mai un suono al lato il legno ma uno

 



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