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poetry poem

meu filho está inoperante e eu sou cortina indo
tem por muito tempo a luz solar do verão brilhada
uma sombra cinzenta fina na borda do pensamento
em seu vôo
eu estou cantando-lhe
quando eu for para trás ligar à terra
era uma oysterman novo alto
baixo! ' tis um a noite do gala
o mistério o mais escuro, o mais estranho
cidade que não é uma cidade
na terra silenciosa

 



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