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baby shower poem

qui appellera le vent
je sais pas où
vous vous rappelez
je suis vieux et aveugle
je secoue mes cheveux dans le vent du matin
les drowses pâles de jour sur l'occidental trempent
effrayé pas plus, je dis
a arqué l'inondation
course haut-soutenue
volonté vous miroitez sur la mer?
désolé et seul
quelque part j'ai lu un conte étrange, vieux, rouillé
les petites prières blanches

 



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