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retirement poem

ciò è l'arsenale
sono il vento che esita
indietro, giri indietro
alti pareti ed enorme
se avessi saputo lo stretto una prigione è amore
come livellare cade
candele che si rovesciano obliquamente in latte del pomodoro
behold me, in miei chiffon, garza e canutiglia
ora che mi sono raffreddato a voi
ho lanciato il mondo

 



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