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christmas poetry

comment comme les étoiles sont ces le blanc, les visages inconnus
dans ma main je me tiens
un poèt, ayant pris le frein outre de sa langue
du plancher au plafond
je suis le vent qui hésite
a arqué l'inondation
ombres à ailes balayant près
doucement maintenant la lumière du jour
quand j'ai regardé dans vos yeux
par le pont grossier

 



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