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prose poetry

têm você não ouvido
felicidade
caído assim
porque o faça sempre carrinho que tirita lá
paredes e enorme elevados
completamente dos rasgos
sono, irmão cinzento da morte
vinho velho a beber
olhar além
têm você andar visto através da vila
de repente, fora das maneiras escuras e frondosas

 



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