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poem

qué yo le deben
hay cualquiera allí
vi que usted hunched y temblando en las piedras
uno con usted
la señora, su corazón ha dado vuelta al polvo
cuando el viento trabaja contra nosotros en la obscuridad
y mi nombre es veraz
en septiembre
mi madre me trenza las rosas mojadas con rocío
el solo puño apretado levantado y alista
oscilado en la horquilla del profundo
los días hypocritic

 



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