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prose poetry

me pregunto a veces si es realmente verdad
las sombras de las naves
todos tragan los años
vea, de esta falsificación de él
mi madre me trenza las rosas mojadas con rocío
pájaros contra el viento de abril
me pregunto donde usted vive
el pequeño lamentable, usado, caras el reír
no del mundo ancho del conjunto
paredes y enorme altos
algunos de los daños que usted ha curado
como va un hombre desnudo yo

 



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