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thanksgiving poem

che cosa era esso i motori detti
ultima mezzanotte
questa ciotola d'argento antica di mine
sono fevered
lo ho visto una volta prima
sopra-avevo preparato l'evento
potremmo ma sapere
la nerezza
le ombre delle navi
le preghiere bianche piccole
sono vecchio e cieco
il mio amore allineare dal suo cuscino č aumentato
il prato stava strisciando

 



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