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thanksgiving poem

esse companheiro estranho veio em baralhar os pés
receoso não mais, eu digo
sobre o rio beckon a mim
eu vi os archangels em minha maçã-árvore última noite
para a verdade, para o amor
o que era ele os motores ditos
e como poderia você sonho da reunião
ainda treze anos
eu quero saber às vezes se for realmente verdadeiro
deixe-nos piedade aqueles de que seja melhor fora do que nós são

 



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