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fall poem

con gli occhi meek e marroni
alcuni dei hurts che avete curato
mescolisi
perchè allora, il mosto noi vede?
sopra loro tutte, osservando giù
potremmo ma sapere
dialo
il vecchio ovest, il vecchio tempo
quando i mare-venti hanno perforato i nostri solitudes
quando le ore del giorno sono numerate
sopra i tetti corra le ombre delle nubi
la mia madre lo ha insegnato che ogni notte

 



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