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african american poetry

en alguna parte leí un cuento extraño, viejo, oxidado
no esté enojado con mí
la oscuridad
de nuestros lugares ocultados
cuando los mar-vientos perforaron nuestras soledades
la medianoche pasada
el mirar más allá
el pasar a través de las paredes amontonadas y feas
glooms de los vivir-robles
el pequeño lamentable, usado, caras el reír

 



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