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african american poetry

você pensa, meu menino, quando eu enrolo meus braços em você
eu estou no tempo cinzento frio
quando eu retornei no por do sol
perguntam-me onde eu estive
paredes e enorme elevados
cara esposa
o cheiro do levantou-se assim falso, os espinhos assim verdadeiros
eu prendo seu coração
pouca porta foi alcançada no último
em todas as coisas não faladas de
moonlight profundo e macio
era o outono do ano

 



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