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family poetry

mi alma es un campo arado oscuro
era un oysterman joven alto
y con el pájaro del tarareo
una vida en la onda del océano
cuál era él los motores dichos
dentro de mi mano sostengo
la oscuridad roba las formas de todas las reinas
a lo largo de una orilla
no esté enojado con mí
cuando miraba en sus ojos


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