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daughter poem

non brucio incenso
quando i mare-venti hanno perforato i nostri solitudes
su e giù va
la mia madre twines me rose bagnate con rugiada
sono fevered
la nerezza rotola verso l'alto
un miglio dietro
della l'oscurità e pace nel mia base finale
benchè sia piccolo come tutte le cose piccole
quando il velare dagli occhi è alzato

 



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