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african american poetry

morbidamente ora la luce del giorno
non prego per pace
ora che mi sono raffreddato a voi
behold me, in miei chiffon, garza e canutiglia
come esso
ero un goddess ere il marmo lo ha trovato
tempesta
il più triste dell'anno
all'interno della mia mano tengo
la nerezza ruba le forme di tutte le regine
nei loro regimentals ragged
siete bei e sbiaditi
il fratello, sono fuoco

 



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