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def poetry jam

mon amour vrai de son oreiller a monté
le jour est fait
regarder là-bas
allés sont les trois, ces soeurs rares
elle boite avec stopper le pas douloureux
comme des aigles sur la haute haute
je remplis cette tasse
ce qui conserve
le petit pitoyable, porté, visages de rire
quand, plein de l'amour chaud et désireux
ne soyez pas faux

 



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