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thanksgiving poem

minha alma é um campo ploughed escuro
uma vida na onda do oceano
são você acordado?
a criança que jogou afastado a folha após a folha
o cheiro do levantou-se assim falso, os espinhos assim verdadeiros
sono doce em suas sepulturas humble
eu arremessei minha alma ao ar como um vôo do falcão
eu sei não onde
acima deles todos, olhando para baixo
caído assim

 



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