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poem for pastors

mas eu não posso lê-lo agora
homem frio stern
acima deles todos, olhando para baixo
o corpo pode confinar
quando eu for para trás ligar à terra
as canções velhas
abaixo de minha janela em uma rua da cidade
eu ganhei a raça
eu encho este copo
musing, entre o por do sol e a obscuridade
uma sombra cinzenta fina na borda do pensamento
quando eu era quebrou em Londres

 



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