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thanksgiving poetry

deixe-nos expressar nossas paixões mais baixas
filhas do tempo
bucks pretos gordos em um quarto do vinho-tambor
com os olhos meek, marrons
em números mournful
um gleam do ouro no gloom e no cinza
pela ponte rude
escute o mar soando
há uns ganhos para todas nossas perdas

 



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