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prose poetry

eu penso d esplêndido justo
fora de mim unworthy e desconhecido
porque são as coisas que não têm nenhuma morte
flor branca da espuma, flor vermelha da flama
musing, entre o por do sol e a obscuridade
estourou o vinho feroz
os céus que eram ashen e sober
o único punho clenched levantado e apronta-se

 



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