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type of poem

sono il vento che esita
se esso
riempio questa tazza
sopra il fiume beckon a me
quando i mare-venti hanno perforato i nostri solitudes
una parola di volo di qui e lŕ
lasci il unsaid bello di parole
mentre mi sono levato in piedi ascoltare, discreetly dumb
fate non sentirsi
un poet, prendente il freno fuori della sua linguetta
dal sud alla rottura del giorno

 



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