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poem for dad

disparando para arriba, cayendo abajo
el aire es como una mariposa
no puedo ahora decirle
amé a mujer
ponemos
fuera de la ventana un mar de árboles verdes
el amo de destinos humanos es yo
miré sobre el cielo glorioso
vea el tentativo
en pasillos del sueño usted vagó cerca
una tormenta está montando en la marea
el olor del se levantó tan falso, las espinas tan verdades
el mirar más allá

 



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