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sister poem

com o por do sol
a escuridăo rouba os formulários de todas as rainhas
o que mim lhe devem
deus
felicidade
para eu era um conselheiro gaunt, grave
as montanhas săo povos silenciosos
ruídos que strive rasgar
alguns dias mais ventosos
embora eu sou pouco como todas as coisas pequenas
era uma oysterman novo alto
velas que toppling lateralmente em umas latas do tomate

 



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