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love poem

a festa real foi feita
melhore do que o granito
antes do saint de bronze solemn
acima deles todos, olhando para baixo
eu vi os archangels em minha maçã-árvore última noite
o justo e stately empregada doméstica, cujos olhos
eu amo minha hora do vento e da luz
uma milha atrás
este é o arsenal
há um país completamente do vinho
para trás, gire para trás

 



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