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acrostic poem

in corridoi di sonno avete vagato vicino
come come le stelle è questo il bianco, facce nameless
per allora senza
faccialo rotare giù dal prato
il vecchio ovest, il vecchio tempo
lasci una conservazione di gioia voi
forse
corsa alto-sopportata
poiché ho ritenuto il senso della morte
nel porto di nuovo York

 



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