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mother poem

il fratello, sono fuoco
come mi trovo coperto dentro, selezionato dentro
rumori che si sforzano strapparsi
gaily attraverso i campi abbiamo ballato
bucks neri grassi in una stanza del vino-barilotto
sia paziente, vita, quando l'amore è al cancello
dicami più di meno o dicami di più
con di anima dei labbri colore rosso e cuore della pietra
ad alcuno i dii grassi
perchè sono le cose che non hanno morte
sotto il foglio dusky dell'alloro

 



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