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poetry in motion

perhaps it is no matter that you died
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
the endless, foolish merriment of stars
why do you always stand there shivering
arched the flood
there was a time in former years
quietly, with reverance, in awe
the earth keeps some vibration going
woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me
in your flight
stay no more
i have heard them in the night
at midnight
let us express our baser passions

 



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