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concrete poetry

eu sou velho e cego
ao longo de um river-side
eu năo posso sempre sentir seu greatness
velas que toppling lateralmente em umas latas do tomate
a noite é escura, e os ventos do inverno
acima do sul na ruptura do dia
deixe-me mover-se lentamente através da rua
minha măe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
assim perdido
splendor doce
rosas e ouro

 



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