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prose poetry

el viejo oeste, el viejo tiempo
oscuro-eyed
gloom
el banquete real fue hecho
las viejas canciones
el más triste del año
una niebla conducĂ­a abajo
cuando los mar-vientos perforaron nuestras soledades
ésta es la nave de la perla
ella estallĂł el vino feroz
usted oye la lluvia?
éstos sean
nosotros que estaban parados

 



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