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death poetry

la donna molto ha mancato, come denominate a me, chiamata a me
ascolti il mare suonante
un cielo che non ha conosciuto mai il sole, la luna o le stelle
risiedo alla montagna della tabella
passato inesorabile di thou
tramite il seno facente male della vasta terra
il cielo
glass-blower di tempo
in pieno delle rotture
improvvisamente, dai sensi scuri e frondosi
uno per uno, come va da un albero

 



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