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mother daughter poem

le poing serré simple soulevé et préparent
soyez dans moi comme modes éternels
la musique i entendu avec vous était plus que la musique
ombres étendues le long de broadway
parmi les montagnes j'ai erré
par de la large le sein faisant mal terre
orage
chère épouse
pourquoi sont les choses qui n'ont aucune mort
se reposer dans son culbuteur attendant votre thé
dans pouvez
il y a trois manières dont les hommes prennent
ces yeux noirs i une fois ainsi félicité

 



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