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writing poetry

era no para esse cheiro singular
sono, irmo cinzento da morte
qual eu desejo observar
d-me a fome
eu estou cantando-lhe
para eu era um conselheiro gaunt, grave
at sua janela da cmara
minha alma um campo ploughed escuro
co do gingham e o gato do calico
ido antes de ns
d-me
apenas agora

 



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