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birthday poetry

scattando in su, cadendo
con gli occhi meek e marroni
stella-polvere e luce vaporous
come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
vado il mio senso complacently
se lo slayer rosso pensa slays
lascili pity coloro di che sia migliore fuori che noi sono
tutti quei tesori che si trovano
glass-blower di tempo
le tonalitŕ della notte stavano cadendo velocemente
nel porto di nuovo York

 



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