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retirement poem

last night the full moon laid a cloth of white
i make my shroud, but no one knows
i saw the clouds among the hills
three days i heard them grieve when i lay dead
do i like it
those on the top say they know you, earth-they are liars
uplifting, as the wind blew
i have known the silence of the stars and of the sea
truely
tell me
when night drifts along the streets of the city
in all things not spoken of

 



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