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lost love poem

limps com parar o ritmo doloroso
nas manhãs nuvem-cinzentas
como águias na elevação ascendente
nunca em toda minha vida
eu sou fevered
no alvorecer, disse
eu vi os archangels em minha maçã-árvore última noite
o que era ele os motores ditos
havia um momento em anos anteriores

 



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