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poem for dad

as sombras colocam ao longo de broadway
macia weeping
você pensa, meu menino, quando eu enrolo meus braços em você
embora repine do amor, e chafe da razão
talvez
dentro desta sepultura humilde um conqueror encontra-se
material da lua
este é o arsenal
cai aqui nenhuma luz
como águias na elevação ascendente
última meia-noite
era uma oysterman novo alto

 



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