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poem

por lo tanto no puedo
soplador de vidrio del tiempo
apenas ahora
el eliminar, luchando vainly
cortocircuito y dulce, y hemos venido al extremo de él
velas que derriban de lado en latas del tomate
una tormenta está montando en la marea
una sombra gris fina en el borde del pensamiento
dentro de este sepulcro humilde un conqueror miente
sé lo que usted va a decir

 



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