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acrostic poem

glass-blower do tempo
eu quero saber onde você vive
bucks pretos gordos em um quarto do vinho-tambor
nos salões do sono você vagueou perto
sumário em uma noite do vôo
muito bem, você liberais
mundo que muda sob minha mão
sobre o rio beckon a mim
há uns ganhos para todas nossas perdas

 



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