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child poem

ruídos que strive rasgar
quando os mar-ventos perfuraram nossos solitudes
através do peito aching da terra larga
simplesmente falando
são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras
do sol nem das estrelas
behold mim, em meus chiffon, gauze e ouropel
vindo para baixo no alvorecer dos montes windless

 



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