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sister poem

quelque part j'ai lu un conte étrange, vieux, rouillé
affligez-vous pas pour l'invisible
il y a des gains pour toutes nos pertes
hors du profond et de l'obscurité
tous en dedans et tous sans moi
je vais ma manière complacently
là par la fenêtre dans la vieille maison
plantons
l'obscurité roule vers le haut
l'air est plein de l'aube et du ressort
dans le port de New York

 



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