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fall poetry

el prado se arrastraba
hay uno que ese i amó una vez tanto
tres días los oí afligirse cuando pongo absolutamente
era muchas y mucho hace un año
mi alma es un campo arado oscuro
las viejas canciones
no me quemo ningún incienso
ciudad que no es una ciudad
amé a mujer
una pluma del acero
debajo de la hoja oscura del laurel
quién es el corredor en los cielos
como ella

 



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