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thanksgiving poem

dai nostri posti nascosti
behold me, in miei chiffon, garza e canutiglia
dal sud alla rottura del giorno
quando un atto è fatto per la libertà
del sole né stelle
un uccello ha cantato
al lover appassionato
la nerezza rotola verso l'alto
migliori che il granito
li ha fatti mai sentono parlare
che cosa noi ora farà
in settembre
quel compagno sconosciuto è venuto sul mescolareare i piedi

 



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