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writing poetry

un poeta, tomando el frenillo de su lengüeta
hay cualquiera allí
cortocircuito y dulce, y hemos venido al extremo de él
oscuro-eyed
behold yo, en mi chiffon, gasa y malla
debajo de la hoja oscura del laurel
arriba y abajo de él va
del sol ni de estrellas
vi la primera pera
poco parque que paso a través
no dé vuelta a su cabeza

 



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