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modern poetry

velas que derriban de lado en latas del tomate
ámeme en el último, o si usted no
nosotros que estaban parados
un poeta, tomando el frenillo de su lengüeta
vi las nubes entre las colinas
apenas como mis dedos en estas llaves
esposa querida
perro de la guinga y el gato del calicó
viejo vino a beber
tan perdido

 



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