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poetry poem

stuff of the moon
which i wish to remark
these be
out of the sparkling sea
how wild, how witch-like weird that life should be
woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me
they ask me where i've been
give me hunger
my son is dead and i am going blind
i see all human wits
noises that strive to tear
my true love from her pillow rose
with lips blood red and heart of stone
i saw the first pear

 



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