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myspace poem

você pensa, meu menino, quando eu enrolo meus braços em você
burly, humble-abelha aplanar
porque são as coisas que não têm nenhuma morte
de nossos lugares escondidos
não permaneça não mais
cão do gingham e o gato do calico
como como as estrelas é este o branco, as caras nameless
sob a folha dusky do laurel

 



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