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erotic poem

ho visto i archangels nel mio mela-albero la notte scorsa
ancora tredici anni
osservare di là
sto morendo
li ho sentiti nella notte
alcuni giorni più ventosi
in pieno delle rotture
se lo slayer rosso pensa slays
non ci è moltitudine, comunque guardato e teso
esistere dello swan

 



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