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thanksgiving poetry

não seja falso
era não para esse cheiro singular
eu arremessei minha alma ao ar como um vôo do falcão
entre as montanhas eu vagueei
mundo que muda sob minha mão
sono, irmão cinzento da morte
a mulher faltou-me muito, como você se chama me, chamada
esse companheiro estranho veio em baralhar os pés

 



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