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kid poem

bougies se renversant en longueur dans des bidons de tomate
jusqu'à sa fenêtre de chambre
soudainement, hors des manières foncées et feuillues
sommeil, frère gris de la mort
un poèt, ayant pris le frein outre de sa langue
un mille derrière
ainsi tombé
un dieu
musing, entre le coucher du soleil et l'obscurité
serene d'après-midi et lumineux verts

 



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