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sorry poem

il sole ha fatto un passo giù dal suo throne dorato
poiché ho ritenuto il senso della morte
corsa alto-sopportata
ho visto i archangels nel mio mela-albero la notte scorsa
non rimanga nient'altro
tutti si acquietano lungo il potomac
con gioia e wonder
una foschia stava guidando giù
l'odore del è aumentato così falso, le spine così allineare
morbidamente piangendo

 



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