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marriage poem

sous un arbre de propagation de châtaigne
je suis vieux et aveugle
avec le rouge de sang de lèvres et le coeur de la pierre
passé persistant de thou
nous nous étendons
je vois tous les esprits humains
dites-moi pas
nous avons aucune honte?
un orage monte sur la marée
doucement pleurant
mon fils est mort et je suis aveugle allant
comme je me trouve couvert dedans, examiné dedans
les jours endeared à chaque MUSE
elle boite avec stopper le pas douloureux

 



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