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suicide poem

peu de parc que je traverse
la terre garde aller de vibration
il n'y a aucune évasion par le fleuve
comme lui à qui esprit dans la flamme du midi
voyez l'expérimental
ces yeux noirs i une fois ainsi félicité
dans le port de New York
la neige chuchote au sujet de moi
c'est le bateau de la perle
passé persistant de thou
l'air est plein de l'aube et du ressort

 



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