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life poetry

l'agonia di avere troppa alimentazione
in sua tenda custodita
amilo in fine, o se non
l'aria è piena l'alba del e la molla
sopra loro tutte, osservando giù
forse
sto morendo
ascolti
dal ponticello rude
ho avuto un sogno e mi sono svegliato con esso
come le aquile sul high alto

 



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