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mom poem

mas eu não posso lê-lo agora
em setembro
não permaneça não mais
minha mãe ensinou-me que cada noite
o que era ele os motores ditos
mil anos silenciosos há
cidade que não é uma cidade
behold mim, em meus chiffon, gauze e ouropel
como como as estrelas é este o branco, as caras nameless
diga-me mais menos ou diga-me mais
os dias melancólicos vieram
ao lado de um campo stricken
sobre os rooftops compita as sombras das nuvens

 



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