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concrete poetry

truely
no hay multitud, no obstante está mirado y tendido
aflĂ­jase no para el invisible
naranjas de desplume nubian azul-negras
déjeme ser triste
ella cojea con parar paso doloroso
cuando miraba en sus ojos
un cielo que nunca ha sabido el sol, la luna o las estrellas
con su pelo flaying violentamente
raza alto-llevada

 



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