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baby shower poem

no hay presa yo de pensamientos pobres
entre las montañas vagué
y todavĂ­a caminaron encendido
nosotros que estaban parados
bucks negros gordos en un cuarto del vino-barril
los cielos que eran ashen y sobrio
todos dentro y todos sin mĂ­
el olor del se levantĂł tan falso, las espinas tan verdades

 



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