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kid poem

era uma oysterman novo alto
babylon -- onde eu vou sonhar
meu filho está inoperante e eu sou cortina indo
behold mim, em meus chiffon, gauze e ouropel
veja, desta moeda falsa dele
um por um, como sae de uma árvore
há uns ganhos para todas nossas perdas
splendor doce
há um país completamente do vinho

 



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