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pumpkin poem

musing, entre le coucher du soleil et l'obscurité
le poing serré simple soulevé et préparent
les jours hypocrites
j'ai dit, j'ai fermé mon coeur
il n'y a aucune bande, toutefois observé et tendu
parmi la fumée et le brouillard d'un après-midi de décembre
substance de la lune
par de la large le sein faisant mal terre
robuste, humble-abeille de somnoler
en ce moment

 



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