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minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
sono doce em suas sepulturas humble
olhar além
na meia-noite
eu vi os archangels em minha maçã-árvore última noite
eu vi com olhos abertos
deve ir para trás, disse
caras bonitas, tragical
ao longo dos bancos
o que era ele os motores ditos
nós que estiveram

 



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