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prose poetry

hace usted oír
déme
todos esos tesoros que mienten
amo mi vida, pero no demasiado bien
antes del santo de bronce solemne
oscuro-eyed
naranjas de desplume nubian azul-negras
las cortinas de la noche caían rápidamente
haga a muchachos y las muchachas todavía van
le estoy cantando
hay aumentos para todas nuestras pérdidas
ésos en el superior dicen que le conocen, tierra -- son mentirosos

 



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