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autumn poem

eu vim no deserto porque minha alma é athirst
eu amo as configurações melodious velhas
este é o arsenal
glass-blower do tempo
um gleam do ouro no gloom e no cinza
diz de épocas velhas boas
última meia-noite
nos salões do sono você vagueou perto
eu faço minha saia, mas ninguém sabe
tropeçando acima, caindo para baixo
completamente dos rasgos
eu gosto d
o único punho clenched levantado e apronta-se

 



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