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erotic poetry

love has been sung a thousand ways
my soul is a dark ploughed field
earth travails
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
and so it goes
in may
that strange companion came on shuffling feet
she burst fierce wine
i bid them all farewell
in the dark and peace of my final bed
fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room
mysterious night
she has a clear, wind-sheltered loveliness

 



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