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thanksgiving poetry

come livellare cade
le montagne sono gente silenziosa
sono andati i tre, quelle sorelle rare
in possa
così perso
scuro-eyed
faccialo rotare giù dal prato
dal ponticello rude
basamento qui dal mio lato
forse è materia che avete morto
come mi trovo coperto dentro, selezionato dentro
due file dei cavoli
il giorno è fatto

 



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