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daughter poem

eu vi os archangels em minha maçã-árvore última noite
o sol está acima
deixe-me mover-se lentamente através da rua
eu estive
sono doce em suas sepulturas humble
fala não bem
para vir assim logo a isto imaginou a obscuridade
havia um strangeness em seus bordos
nós colocamos
em números mournful
melancolia, azul era

 



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