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black poetry

paredes e enorme elevados
do sol nem das estrelas
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
nos salőes do sono vocę vagueou perto
gaily através dos campos nós dançamos
behold mim, em meus chiffon, gauze e ouropel
săo vocę vivo?
o movimento do seu corpo é como a música
com seu cabelo que flaying descontroladamente

 



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