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poetry in motion

weak-winged is song
the snow whispers about me
there is no flock, however watched and tended
there is a city, builded by no hand
when i was broke in london
have we no shame?
the swan existing
i am old and blind
from our hidden places
stern cold man
my soul goes clad in gorgeous things
in your arms was still delight
last night the full moon laid a cloth of white

 



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