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thanksgiving poem

tropeçando acima, caindo para baixo
no alvorecer, disse
lá pela janela na casa velha
burly, humble-abelha aplanar
pouca porta foi alcançada no último
eu estou morrendo
porque
mundo que muda sob minha mão
agora que eu lhe esfriei
eu estou cantando-lhe
com vermelho do sangue dos bordos e coração da pedra
moonlight profundo e macio
quando você vier hoje à noite

 



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