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christmas poem

ruídos que strive rasgar
babylon -- onde eu vou sonhar
para estes braços brancos sobre minha garganta
o cheiro do levantou-se assim falso, os espinhos assim verdadeiros
uma pena do aço
três anos há hoje
nobility da morte outra vez
rode-me para baixo pelo prado
caras bonitas, tragical
quando eu for para trás ligar à terra
eu vou minha maneira complacently
era uma oysterman novo alto

 



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