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concrete poetry

tressé et tissé
la pluie plus de, et l'air brillant
environ porté plainte au maître
vieux vin à boire
pourquoi faites-vous toujours stand tremblant là
pour moi étais un conseiller décharné et grave
je secoue mes cheveux dans le vent du matin
pour venir tellement bientôt à ceci a imaginé l'obscurité

 



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