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dark poetry

eu vi as nuvens entre os montes
o prado estava rastejando
uma vida na onda do oceano
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
sobre o rio beckon a mim
aqueles olhos pretos i elogiado uma vez assim
ido antes de nós
são você acordado?
macio como a cama na terra
o pitiful pequeno, desgastado, caras rir
este é o arsenal

 



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  • A book club that keeps writing new chapters - Philadelphia Inquirer
 

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