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poem for pastors

eu moldei o mundo
glass-blower do tempo
veja, desta moeda falsa dele
eu encho este copo
talvez
uma pena do aço
o que nós fará agora
há três maneiras em que os homens fazem exame
a escuridão rola para cima
têm você não ouvido
eu fiz um voto uma vez, um somente
behold mim, em meus chiffon, gauze e ouropel

 



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