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contemporary poetry

os dias endeared a cada MUSE
uma pena do aço
havia um strangeness em seus bordos
velas que toppling lateralmente em umas latas do tomate
ouviu as crianças jogar no sol
três anos há hoje
eu vim no deserto porque minha alma é athirst
se eu for muito certo
desolado e solitário
a mulher faltou-me muito, como você se chama me, chamada
behold mim, em meus chiffon, gauze e ouropel

 



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