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life poem

tressé et tissé
sous ma fenêtre dans une rue de ville
serene d'après-midi et lumineux verts
orage
est souvent il pas aussi?
quand, plein de l'amour chaud et désireux
ma mère m'a enseigné que chaque nuit
j'ai vu la première poire
et pendant que nous marchions l'herbe a été faiblement remuée
un mot de vol d'ici et là
je l'aime
à minuit
vous entendez la pluie?
substance de la lune

 



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