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sad poetry

sadly speaking
if i were very sure
i am the wind that wavers
those black eyes i once so praised
you are beautiful and faded
i can not tell you now
soft as the bed in the earth
as a naked man i go
fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room
the sun is up
burly, dozing humble-bee
is there anybody there
the single clenched fist lifted and ready

 



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