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dark poetry

debajo de un árbol de la castaña que se separa
no dé vuelta a su cabeza
el solo puño apretado levantado y alista
lleno esta taza
no hay multitud, no obstante está mirado y tendido
y cómo podría usted sueño de la reunión
velas que derriban de lado en latas del tomate
el amo de destinos humanos es yo

 



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