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angel poem

arriba y abajo de él va
trenzado y tejido
si era muy seguro
cuando la noche mandila a lo largo de las calles de la ciudad
apenas ahora
no hay presa yo de pensamientos pobres
quizás no es ninguna materia que usted murió
tengo que decir buonas noches
a lo largo de una orilla
el solo puño apretado levantado y alista


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