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quarta-feira, 30 de maio de 2012

Fire Birds





I looked dreary
into a mystic space
in the calm
after the storms 
- craving again 
 a broken wishbone
a regained territory
that whistles
like a quivering leaf
falling
and burns
like a desert sand

a thirst
that opened 
oak doors in silence
- the nameless resent 
trading our dreams
leading us
to the places

where I bend 
to see some fire birds.

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