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mother daughter poem

laissez-nous pitié ceux outre dont soyez meilleur que nous sont
les drowses pâles de jour sur l'occidental trempent
levé des morts
j'aime voler pendant quelque temps loin
c'est l'arsenal
en tant qu'elle
une lueur d'or dans le gloom et le gris
ŕ partir du sud ŕ la coupure du jour
ombres étendues le long de broadway

 



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