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prose poetry

ella era una belleza en los días
suavemente llorando
debajo del timón del guerrero
en la medianoche
tormenta
escuche
ella oyó a niños el jugar en el sol
usted recuerda
vi los archangels en mi manzana-a'rbol ayer por la noche
todos dentro y todos sin mí
en un viejo compartimiento se encendió suavemente
no puedo sentir siempre su greatness
el rodillo triste del tambor amortiguado tiene golpe

 



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