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halloween poetry

i shake my hair in the wind of morning
why are the things that have no death
there was never a sound beside the wood but one
as a white candle
white foam flower, red flame flower
stern cold man
the rain was over, and the brilliant air
suddenly, out of dark and leafy ways
a storm is riding on the tide
i stood by the open casement
often i think of the beautiful town

 



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