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concrete poetry

mon âme disparaît plaquée dans des choses magnifiques
musing, entre le coucher du soleil et l'obscurité
j'ai vu la première poire
quand j'étais un garçon à l'université
maintenant tandis que mes lèvres vivent
la nuit est foncée, et les vents d'hiver
les chansons antiques

 



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