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If I would die today
you wouldnât notice a thing other than the skin of your transcendental gods, that flat, obliterating thing dimming up your face late in the night when stars are starving of dreams, counting mine if I would die today I would leave here unknown to many too many times crossing my life with theirs across the ocean of vast encounters, like a deserter fleeing the labor camp of his mind in daylight you would be going on with your demise and loving palms, covering the flowers of spring with kisses stolen from the banks of Rio Grande if I would die today you would not remember me, bird, you would only fly higher than the fumes of Andean pipes covering the stolen and deserted lands of my heart if I would die today, I wouldnât know what to tell you but put this ring of words on your finger for the weddings of long, whispering, simmering nights and with those lips I would seal my breath for eternity inside this shivering body, my ark
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