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birthday poem

bucks negros gordos en un cuarto del vino-barril
tengo gusto de ella
en y de sĂ­ mismo
evidenciado en la luz tenue en sus ojos
tormenta
mi hijo es muerto y soy persiana que va
dije, yo he cerrado mi corazĂłn
el elevar, como el viento soplĂł
en todas las cosas no habladas de

 



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