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sex poem

un orage monte sur la marée
maintenant tandis que mes lèvres vivent
glooms des vivre-chênes
je descends les chemins de jardin
il y avait un temps en anciennes années
simplicité
beau
je suis las d'être amer et las d'être sage
à minuit
contre la flamme verte de l'aubépine-arbre

 



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