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thanksgiving poetry

j'ai eu un rêve et je me suis réveillé avec lui
sous la lune de moisson
l'odeur du s'est levée si faux, les épines si vraies
le mouvement de votre corps est comme la musique
il parle pas bien
comme bougie blanche
sommeil, frère gris de la mort
dans ma main je me tiens
maintenant pour un combat vif et gai
foncé-eyed
doucement maintenant la lumière du jour
soudainement, hors des manières foncées et feuillues

 



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