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grandmother poem

na esfera
veja, eles retornam
mas eu não posso lê-lo agora
a chuva sobre, e o ar brilhante
cidade que não é uma cidade
moonlight profundo e macio
ido antes de nós
porque são as coisas que não têm nenhuma morte
era uma oysterman novo alto
quando eu estive escutar, discreetly dumb

 



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