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poem for dad

les poèts le disent
et mon nom est véridique
vous êtes clair
c'est l'arsenal
hors de la fenêtre une mer des arbres verts
course haut-soutenue
le plus triste de l'année
pourquoi sont les choses qui n'ont aucune mort
je vous ai détesté
mon âme disparaît plaquée dans des choses magnifiques
voyez, de cette contrefaçon de lui

 



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