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poetry poem

quando eu retornei no por do sol
glooms dos viv-carvalhos
veja, desta moeda falsa dele
trançado e tecido
três anos há hoje
porque são as coisas que não têm nenhuma morte
mundo que muda sob minha mão
eu ouvi o vento o dia inteiro
eu vi com olhos abertos
acima do sul na ruptura do dia

 



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