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concrete poetry

glooms de los vivir-robles
déjeme moverse lentamente a través de la calle
soy fevered
éste es el arsenal
viejo vino a beber
dondeyo encuéntrele
tome mis pulseras
debajo de un árbol de la castaña que se separa
aquĂ­ cae ninguna luz
una palabra del vuelo de aquĂ­ y allĂ­
flor blanca de la espuma, flor roja de la llama

 



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