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pumpkin poem

eu quero saber onde você vive
talvez
era o outono do ano
última meia-noite
eu sou fevered
macia weeping
as verdades terríveis estes sejam
os arcos da ponte vermelha
nos salões do sono você vagueou perto
o prado estava rastejando
pharaoh, rei da terra de Egipto
bucks pretos gordos em um quarto do vinho-tambor

 



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