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concrete poetry

nunca había un sonido al lado de la madera pero de una
una vez este césped suave
la agonía del tener demasiada energía
esos ojos negros i elogiado una vez tan
se hace el día
el olor del se levantó tan falso, las espinas tan verdades
no hay multitud, no obstante está mirado y tendido
no ruego para la paz

 



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