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thanksgiving poetry

hauts murs et énorme
je vous attends
et pain de breaketh pas plus
dites-moi moins ou dites-moi davantage
sommeil gentiment dans vos tombes humbles
mon amour vrai de son oreiller a monté
son visage est juste et lisse et bon
un ciel qui n'a jamais connu le soleil, la lune ou les étoiles
je ne prie pas pour la paix
soudainement, hors des manières foncées et feuillues

 



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