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pumpkin poem

ci sono tre sensi in cui gli uomini prendono
in sua tenda custodita
glass-blower di tempo
scattando in su, cadendo
gli archi del ponticello rosso
le ombre pongono lungo broadway
un poet, prendente il freno fuori della sua linguetta
la signora, il vostro cuore si č girata verso polvere
da solo
la nerezza rotola verso l'alto

 



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