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slam poetry

per questi bracci bianchi circa il mio collo
candele che si rovesciano obliquamente in latte del pomodoro
da solo
mi levo in piedi nel tempo grigio freddo
quanto selvaggio, come strega-come bizzarro che la vita dovrebbe essere
basamento qui dal mio lato
non rimanga nient'altro
una tempesta sta guidando sulla marea

 



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