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autumn poem

je suis fevered
je vois tous les esprits humains
quelques jours plus venteux
ma mre me tortille des roses humides avec la rose
mon fils est mort et je suis aveugle allant
elle pourrait l'avoir su en ressort premier
bien que je sois peu en tant que toutes les petites choses
qui est le coureur dans les cieux

 



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