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african american poetry

nunca había un sonido al lado de la madera pero de una
una vez este césped suave
estrella-polvo y luz vaporosa
todos dentro y todos sin mí
arqueó la inundación
cuando la noche mandila a lo largo de las calles de la ciudad
los drowses pálidos del día en el occidental empapan
no permanezca no más
velas que derriban de lado en latas del tomate
ella estalló el vino feroz

 



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