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retirement poem

trenzado y tejido
soy cansado de ser amargo y cansado de ser sabio
en el puerto de York nueva
una pluma del acero
con los ojos mansos, marrones
apenas como mis dedos en estas llaves
evidenciado en la luz tenue en sus ojos
veo todos los ingenios humanos
la oscuridad rueda hacia arriba
el pasar a través de las paredes amontonadas y feas

 



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