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poem for dad

tempesta
nella terra silenziosa
sotto la luna della raccolta
per allora senza
dato che, se faceste una pausa oggi il mio lato
chi è il corridore nei cieli
candele che si rovesciano obliquamente in latte del pomodoro
glass-blower di tempo
città che non è una città
scuro-eyed
dalla finestra un mare degli alberi verdi

 



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