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angel poem

mejore que el granito
cuando el viento trabaja contra nosotros en la obscuridad
por lo tanto no puedo
aunque soy poco como todas las pequeñas cosas
dos filas de coles
nunca en toda mi vida
vi los archangels en mi manzana-a'rbol ayer por la noche
de largo hace, en el claro de luna joven
le estoy cantando
un pequeño melocotón en la huerta creció
con su pelo flaying violentamente
todos esos tesoros que mienten

 



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