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cowboy poetry

gaily through the fields we danced
a gleam of gold in gloom and gray
candles toppling sideways in tomato cans
have you not heard
weak-winged is song
all quiet along the potomac
glass-blower of time
let a joy keep you
the arches of the red bridge
what was it the engines said
were it not for that singular smell
my soul goes clad in gorgeous things

 



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