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since between then and now no new coincidences have been noted
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I know what life is
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Of the seas in the corner
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you make poetry out of it
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and somehow honey dripping down
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The sky is listening; the sky is as hopeful
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It has no knowledge except of nothingness
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‘s not wrung, see you; unforeseen times rather — as skies
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postbox for the inner ear. Tarantula’s footstep,
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Y ¿quién prueba mi paciencia?