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thanksgiving poem

e com o pássaro humming
o mistério o mais escuro, o mais estranho
porque
se eu for muito certo
sono, irmão cinzento da morte
vinho velho a beber
bucks pretos gordos em um quarto do vinho-tambor
poderíamos nós mas para saber
os drowses pálidos do dia no ocidental embebem
para então without
vivido pelo river-side
fora do profundo e da obscuridade
levantado dos mortos

 



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