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christmas poems

rompiamo il vetro di cui vino sacred
in corridoi di sonno avete vagato vicino
sono vecchio e cieco
esistere dello swan
era un oysterman giovane alto
travails della terra
una foschia stava guidando giù
ombre alate che scopano vicino
è ci qualcuno là
bello
i poets dicono a
impaurito nient'altro, dico

 



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