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brother poem

debajo de la hoja oscura del laurel
cuando la noche mandila a lo largo de las calles de la ciudad
behold yo, en mi chiffon, gasa y malla
para mirar todo el dia la onda azul encresparse y romperse
pueden hablar de amor en una cabańa
en y de sí mismo
no éramos muchos
un destello del oro en gloom y gris
tengo gusto de ella
se van los tres, esas hermanas raras

 



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