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pumpkin poem

eu soube o silêncio das estrelas e do mar
antes do saint de bronze solemn
eu gosto d
eu não queimo nenhum incense
eu vi os archangels em minha maçã-árvore última noite
os dias hypocritic
através do peito aching da terra larga
em números mournful
cidade que não é uma cidade
são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras

 



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