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autumn poetry

soy una mujer
por las mañanas nube-grises
estrella-polvo y luz vaporosa
con rojo de la sangre de los labios y el corazón de la piedra
caras hermosas, tragical
cuando miraba en sus ojos
cántele otra vez a canción cantado
éste es el arsenal
lleno esta taza
uno con usted
y pan del breaketh no más
qué ocasión spiteful roba unawares

 



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