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love poetry

quand j'étais a enfoncé à Londres
dans le port de New York
tandis que je tenais l'écoute, discrètement sourde-muette
le parfum est venu
ceux-ci soient
ma mère me tortille des roses humides avec la rosée
orage
le jour est fait
sous la lune de moisson
pourquoi puis, la nécessité nous voient?
le bonbon avec la fougère et s'est levé
un stylo d'acier

 



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