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friend poetry

il mio figlio è guasto e sono ciechi andanti
dice a di buoni vecchi periodi
li prevedo
quando i mare-venti hanno perforato i nostri solitudes
qui si trova una signora la più bella
fiori dei bambini
la mia madre twines me rose bagnate con rugiada
la nerezza ruba le forme di tutte le regine
calma come che seconda estate

 



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