.El a?o en que Allen Ginsberg muri?,
El cielo estaba roto de estrellas de metal,
De gotas de mercurio,
De patinadores sobre la lamina del pozo.
El a?o en que Allen Ginsberg muri?,
Montones de cris?lidas sal?an del letargo,
Entraban en mi armario,
Devoraban los guantes de l.
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