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slam poetry

quando vado di nuovo a terra
ma alas, sogni giusti
rumori che si sforzano strapparsi
nelle mattine nube-grige
in pieno delle rotture
non si addolori che finito
quando ho rinviato al tramonto
due file dei cavoli
quando ero un ragazzo all'università
amilo in fine, o se non
risiedo alla montagna della tabella
sonno, fratello grigio della morte

 



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