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mom poem

dal ponticello rude
lascilo muoversi lentamente tramite la via
all'interno della mia mano tengo
un miglio dietro
dio
i giorni hypocritic
sceso all'alba dalle colline windless
quando ho rinviato al tramonto
uccelli contro il vento di aprile
la mia anima č un campo arato scuro

 



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