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velas que toppling lateralmente em umas latas do tomate
entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro
têm você ouvido
este é o arsenal
lá pela janela na casa velha
há três maneiras em que os homens fazem exame
o alvorecer era verde maçã
eu tive um sonho e eu acordei com ele
agora que eu lhe esfriei
era uma oysterman novo alto
sob a lua da colheita
não do mundo largo do todo

 



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