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pumpkin poem

pero no puedo ahora leerle
el aire es como una mariposa
cuando los mar-vientos perforaron nuestras soledades
velas que derriban de lado en latas del tomate
si era muy seguro
algunos de los daños que usted ha curado
tristemente hablando
dulce y fuerte
como miento cubierto adentro, defendido adentro
uno por uno, como se va de un árbol
todos se callan a lo largo del potomac

 



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