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african american poetry

dans leurs regimentals loqueteux
quelque part j'ai lu un conte étrange, vieux, rouillé
dans ma main je me tiens
il raconte de bonnes vieilles périodes
une pensée gentiment solennelle
la dame, votre coeur s'est tournée vers la poussière
j'ai vu que vous hunched et tremblant sur les pierres
beau
les poèts le disent
j'aime ma vie, mais pas trop bien

 



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