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cowboy poetry

mi dolor, cuando ella está aquí con mí
una sombra gris fina en el borde del pensamiento
quizás no es ninguna materia que usted murió
en su vuelo
poca puerta fue alcanzada en el último
no esté enojado con mí
la oscuridad roba las formas de todas las reinas
y todavía caminaron encendido
voluntad usted brilla tenuemente en el mar?

 



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