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modern poetry

ils dans le rassemblement d'obscurité et demandent
quand je vais de nouveau à la terre
je fais ma monture, mais personne ne sait
à l'aube, il a dit
je sais pas où
orage
j'ai dit
j'ai vu avec les yeux ouverts
vieux vin à boire
un orage monte sur la marée
treize ans toujours
démontré dans la lueur vacillante dans vos yeux
splendor doux

 



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