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teen poem

bucks neri grassi in una stanza del vino-barilotto
era un oysterman giovane alto
sto morendo
guardi indietro con gli occhi longing e sappia che seguirň
come io aiuti alla destra il mondo che sta andando male
hanno avuti lui e la i ma venuto a contatto di
la mia madre lo ha insegnato che ogni notte
ci erano tre nel prato dal ruscello

 



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