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lost love poem

não há nenhum escape pelo rio
e como poderia você sonho da reunião
eu vi os archangels em minha maçã-árvore última noite
entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro
um por um, como sae de uma árvore
têm você não ouvido
a escuridão rouba os formulários de todas as rainhas
havia três no prado pelo ribeiro
dentro de minha mão eu prendo
burly, humble-abelha aplanar

 



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