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cowboy poetry

ciò è l'arsenale
quando le ore del giorno sono numerate
una tempesta sta guidando sulla marea
le vecchie canzoni
osservare di là
tristi sono che conoscono non l'amore
in possa
vedrò stasera una stella
aumentato dai morti
in tutte le cose non parlate di
fate non sentirsi
vivo dalla riva del fiume
contro la fiamma verde dell'cratego-albero

 



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