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thanksgiving poetry

dites-moi pas
je réside à la montagne de table
il y a des gains pour toutes nos pertes
vécu à côté de la rive
beaux, tragical visages
les nuances de la nuit tombaient rapidement
à certains les gros dieux
vous êtes clair
quand je vais de nouveau à la terre
quand la nuit dérive le long des rues de la ville
je vois tous les esprits humains
fleur blanche de mousse, fleur rouge de flamme

 



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