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halloween poem

sacudaro mi pelo en el viento de la mañana
soy el viento que duda
hay tres maneras de las cuales los hombres toman
evidenciado en la luz tenue en sus ojos
en la medianoche
flores de bebés
mire detrás con los ojos longing y sepa que seguiré
viejo vino a beber
simplemente hablando
no del mundo ancho del conjunto
lleno esta taza
la tierra guarda cierto ir de la vibración

 



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