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baby poem

par le pont grossier
vous faites entendre
comme des aigles sur la haute haute
j'ai vu les archangels dans mon pomme-arbre la nuit passée
je suis dans l'amour avec les endroits prévoyants élevés
la pluie plus de, et l'air brillant
sommeil gentiment dans vos tombes humbles
sous la lune de moisson
quand les heures du jour sont numérotées
une ombre grise mince sur le bord de la pensée

 



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