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erotic poem

a few more windy days
come down at dawn from windless hills
like him whose spirit in the blaze of noon
candles toppling sideways in tomato cans
up from the south at break of day
i have known the silence of the stars and of the sea
fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room
on and on
there by the window in the old house
all quiet along the potomac
very well, you liberals
that strange companion came on shuffling feet

 



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