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christmas poetry

em possa
ouviu as crianças jogar no sol
eu resido na montanha da tabela
eu não queimo nenhum incense
o merriment infinito, foolish das estrelas
velas que toppling lateralmente em umas latas do tomate
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
sob a lua da colheita
há qualquer um lá
nunca em toda minha vida
desde que eu senti o sentido da morte
quando eu for para trás ligar à terra

 



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