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■ The oak
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2018-02-21 | | the first sun rays of the poem are rising in the middle of the night from the tidy chaos of our savage voices you are following the black glitter deep inside the caves of each vowel it is still night within the words and thousands of red eyes are on the watch the night is long before the poem the voice leads to the black dawn as you are leaving the night the poem is burning out
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