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mother poem

lasci il unsaid bello di parole
ho visto i archangels nel mio mela-albero la notte scorsa
chi è il corridore nei cieli
non rimanga nient'altro
poco cancello è stato raggiunto in fine
un poet, prendente il freno fuori della sua linguetta
dai nostri posti nascosti
dal pavimento al soffitto
che cosa io devono voi
l'aria è piena l'alba del e la molla

 



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