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poem for pastors

eu vi os archangels em minha maçã-árvore última noite
do sol nem das estrelas
raça elevado-carregada
todos quiet ao longo do potomac
para eu era um conselheiro gaunt, grave
para vir assim logo a isto imaginou a obscuridade
eu amei uma mulher
no recolhimento da escuridão e pedem
laranjas arrancando nubian azul-pretas

 



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