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narrative poetry

città che non è una città
non appenda corona
lungo una riva del fiume
mi chiedono dove sono stato
desolato e solo
senza sosta
non dal mondo largo di tutto
movimento del vostro corpo è come musica
veda, da questa falsificazione di lui
la sua faccia è giusta e liscia e fine
sonno, fratello grigio della morte
le verità terribili questi sono
che cosa noi ora farà

 



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