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baby poem

cette cuvette argentée antique du mien
j'ai vu les archangels dans mon pomme-arbre la nuit passée
démontré dans la lueur vacillante dans vos yeux
bonne femme
j'ai eu un rêve et je me suis réveillé avec lui
en dessous de cette tombe modeste un conqueror se trouve
ceux sur le supérieur indiquent qu'elles vous connaissent, la terre -- elles sont des menteurs
l'obscurité

 



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