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footprint poem

pienso a menudo en la ciudad hermosa
naranjas de desplume nubian azul-negras
no hay escape al lado del río
levantado de los muertos
bucks negros gordos en un cuarto del vino-barril
usted piensa, mi muchacho, cuando pongo mis brazos alrededor de usted
porqué entonces, la necesidad nosotros ve?
el prado se arrastraba
tres días los oí afligirse cuando pongo absolutamente
le cuento con
ella oyó a niños el jugar en el sol
mi amor verdadero de su almohadilla se levantó

 



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