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dans le port de New York
hors de la mer de scintillement
bien que je sois peu en tant que toutes les petites choses
ceux-ci soient
je suis fevered
quand le voile des yeux est soulevé
doucement pleurant
j'ai vu les archangels dans mon pomme-arbre la nuit passée
et pendant que nous marchions l'herbe a été faiblement remuée
dites-moi pas


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