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autumn poetry

come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
le vecchie canzoni
sotto un albero di diffusione della castagna
sonno, fratello grigio della morte
ho visto i archangels nel mio mela-albero la notte scorsa
vi ricordate di
due file dei cavoli
vecchio vino da bere
mi domando dove vivete
passando tramite le pareti huddled ed ugly
il fratello, sono fuoco
morbidamente piangendo
siete svegli?

 



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