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thanksgiving poem

macia weeping
sono doce em suas sepulturas humble
nós não éramos muitos
apenas como meus dedos nestas chaves
acima do sul na ruptura do dia
baixo! ' tis um a noite do gala
última noite a lua cheia colocou um pano do branco
limps com parar o ritmo doloroso
sumário em uma noite do vôo
quando você vier hoje à noite
o movimento do seu corpo é como a música

 



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