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poem

oscillato nella culla del profondo
debole-è traversata la canzone
siete vivi?
la nerezza ruba le forme di tutte le regine
non sia falso
ho avuto un timore nella mia vita
truely
candele che si rovesciano obliquamente in latte del pomodoro
non posso ora dirvi
il prato stava strisciando
sonno dolce nelle vostre tombe humble
la sua faccia è giusta e liscia e fine
ho visto le stelle più fiere

 



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