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pumpkin poem

à minuit
elle était une beauté en jours
bougies se renversant en longueur dans des bidons de tomate
et mon nom est véridique
pourquoi sont les choses qui n'ont aucune mort
le pré rampait
maintenant tandis que mes lèvres vivent
il y avait de trois dans le pré par le ruisseau
simplement parlant
ce que je souhaite remarquer
peu de parc que je traverse
passé persistant de thou
tranquillement, avec le reverance, dans la crainte
beau

 



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