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footprint poem

hay un país por completo del vino
veo todos los ingenios humanos
debajo de la luna de la cosecha
una niebla conducía abajo
no hay multitud, no obstante está mirado y tendido
le estoy cantando
estrella-polvo y luz vaporosa
naranjas de desplume nubian azul-negras
he ganado la raza
disparando para arriba, cayendo abajo

 



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