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acrostic poem

il bambino che ha gettato via il foglio dopo il foglio
una foschia stava guidando giù
nel porto di nuovo York
per ero un consigliere gaunt e grave
rompiamo il vetro di cui vino sacred
potremmo ma sapere
mentre mi sono levato in piedi ascoltare, discreetly dumb
contro la fiamma verde dell'cratego-albero
se muoio, pensi soltanto questo me

 



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