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poem for pastors

em seus braços estava o prazer imóvel
pensamentos através de minha cabeça
uma vez este turf macio
eu moldei o mundo
este é o arsenal
eu vi os archangels em minha maçã-árvore última noite
eu amo as configurações melodious velhas
em algum lugar eu li um tale estranho, velho, oxidado

 



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