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sad poetry

mi levo in piedi nel tempo grigio freddo
le vecchie canzoni
ho visto con gli occhi aperti
la mia madre lo ha insegnato che ogni notte
dice a di buoni vecchi periodi
poco parco che attraverso
candele che si rovesciano obliquamente in latte del pomodoro
da solo
il lampo ha esposto a flash ed ha alzato
una foschia stava guidando giù
contro la fiamma verde dell'cratego-albero
quanto selvaggio, come strega-come bizzarro che la vita dovrebbe essere
un'ombra grigia sottile sul bordo di pensiero

 



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