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funny poetry

prazeres mid e palácios embora nós podemos vaguear
e com o pássaro humming
meu filho está inoperante e eu sou cortina indo
eighty anos passaram, e mais
há uma cidade, builded por nenhuma mão
e assim vai
minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
como uma vela branca
talvez
laranjas arrancando nubian azul-pretas
na obscuridade e na paz de minha cama final

 



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