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type of poem

velas que derriban de lado en latas del tomate
contra la llama verde del espino-a'rbol
amo mi vida, pero no demasiado bien
tan perdido
vi con los ojos abiertos
trenzado y tejido
usted está claro
debajo del timón del guerrero
dentro de este sepulcro humilde un conqueror miente
arqueó la inundación
un pensamiento dulce solemne

 



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