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fall poem

até sua janela da câmara
frequentemente eu penso da cidade bonita
babylon -- onde eu vou sonhar
têm você não ouvido
nós que estiveram
short e doce, e nós viemos à extremidade dela
caras bonitas, tragical
acima do sul na ruptura do dia
estrela-poeira e luz vaporosa
nós quebramos o vidro cujo vinho sacred
arched a inundação
a terra mantem algum ir da vibração

 



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