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autumn poem

são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras
cara esposa
duas fileiras dos repolhos
balançado no berço do profundo
filhas do tempo
eu disse
do assoalho ao teto
behold mim, em meus chiffon, gauze e ouropel
flores dos bebês
quem ama a chuva
raça elevado-carregada
eu vou minha maneira complacently

 



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