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poem for pastors

sob a folha dusky do laurel
eu estive
na esfera
última meia-noite
eu disse, mim fechei meu coração
e enquanto nós andamos a grama foi agitada fraca
agite
quem é o corredor nos céus
eu agito meu cabelo no vento da manhã
nós que estiveram
se eu for muito certo
velas que toppling lateralmente em umas latas do tomate
a filha, arte do thou vem morrer

 



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