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angel poem

era uma oysterman novo alto
esse companheiro estranho veio em baralhar os pés
as canções velhas
uma vida na onda do oceano
pássaros de encontro ao vento de abril
dentro de minha mão eu prendo
prazeres mid e palácios embora nós podemos vaguear
embora eu sou pouco como todas as coisas pequenas
macio como a cama na terra
eu não pray para a paz
receoso não mais, eu digo

 



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