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footprint poem

era muitas e muito um ano há
do assoalho ao teto
eu sou velho e cego
diz de épocas velhas boas
um poeta, fazendo exame do breio fora de sua lingüeta
estourou o vinho feroz
para a verdade, para o amor
no porto de york novo
gloom
esteja em mim como os modos eternal
sombras voadas que varrem perto
ruídos que strive rasgar

 



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