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sad poem

velas que derriban de lado en latas del tomate
está a menudo no tan?
con la puesta del sol
apenas como mis dedos en estas llaves
en alguna parte leí un cuento extraño, viejo, oxidado
quién es el corredor en los cielos
el eliminar, luchando vainly
evidenciado en la luz tenue en sus ojos
vi los archangels en mi manzana-a'rbol ayer por la noche
una pluma del acero
ella dijo

 



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