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acrostic poem

hauts murs et énorme
pour moi étais un conseiller décharné et grave
je vous chante
je remplis cette tasse
en matins nuage-gris
bougies se renversant en longueur dans des bidons de tomate
la neige chuchote au sujet de moi
le long d'une rive
pour puis en dehors

 



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