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fall poetry

me preguntan donde he estado
felicidad
si era muy seguro
flores de bebés
nunca en toda mi vida
veo todos los ingenios humanos
sobre ellas todas, mirando abajo
las sombras de las naves
estoy viejo y oculto
entre el humo y la niebla de una tarde de diciembre
era no para ese olor singular
lo van
todos dentro y todos sin mí

 



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