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Author's Note:
I do not post too much, so here are two recent poems

You can always tell when línea C is approaching


estacíon San Juan.
It sounds like an avalanche tumbling down


a San Franciscan alley .
As you board you notice, almost everyday, another


beautiful woman


You have yours though, and are thoroughly satisfied,
But with every stop


Independencía


Mariano Moreno


Avenida de Mayo
You wonder curiosities about her and the trials she
has endeavored in her life.

Then the next stop is yours.


Diagonal Norte.
You head left, she right


and poof it’s gone.

Tokyo where are you now
These subtes get so packed


“el olor de humanos”
Seeing people’s glances and stares


the electrical wires buried hypoterra something like




the Matrix or Geiger – the hypereality
I boarded @ Lavalle


gremlins move this older model subterraneous tren


the tunnels, trains and people are all exhausted.
Blank stares with an occasional blink give cues.

These older subtes get so packed with humans.
Eyes like singeing blue lazers that tell you nothing.

http://home.triad.rr.com/edwin


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The following comments are for "The Subte Series"
by xinerama





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