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prose poetry

há uns ganhos para todas nossas perdas
o alvorecer era verde maçã
o ar é como uma borboleta
eu vi com olhos abertos
o justo e stately empregada doméstica, cujos olhos
o sol pisou para baixo de seu throne dourado
o rolo sad do cilindro muffled tem a batida
havia um momento em anos anteriores

 



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