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sex poem

les vérités terribles ceux-ci soient
à ce qui une femme la comparera aimée
un poèt, ayant pris le frein outre de sa langue
je me tiens par temps gris froid
tous en dedans et tous sans moi
souffleur de verre de temps
la étoile-poussière et lumière vaporeuse
les jours hypocrites
se déclenchant vers le haut, tombant vers le bas

 



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