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def poetry

i've won the race
i said, i have shut my heart
stay no more
splendid and terrible your love
blossoms of babies
those on the top say they know you, earth-they are liars
often is it not so?
a storm is riding on the tide
of sun nor stars
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
over the river, on the hill
out of me unworthy and unknown

 



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