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son poem

je suis fevered
l'air est comme un papillon
le roulement triste du tambour insonorisé a le battement
les montagnes ils sont les gens silencieux
du soleil ni des étoiles
ville qui n'est pas une ville
il était un jeune oysterman grand
l'obscurité roule vers le haut
bien que repine d'amour, et frottement de raison
quand vous venez ce soir

 



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