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prose poetry

dai nostri posti nascosti
sole e vento e battimento del mare
ottanta anni hanno passato e piĂą
ho visto che il dio voi lo dubita?
ora che mi sono raffreddato a voi
ed il mio nome è sincero
non sia falso
dal puntello, dal mare
tempesta
la mia anima va placcata nelle cose gorgeous
li ho sentiti nella notte
il mio figlio è guasto e sono ciechi andanti

 



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