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Onoma
Poems
Feb 2016
Song of its Bed
Doesn't a root whistle
in memory of the wind
on its way down?
Knowing downwardness,
is upwardnes...in the
subtle song of its bed?
On death.
Written by
Onoma
NYC
(NYC)
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lluvia de abril
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Impeccable Space Poetess
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SøułSurvivør
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