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christmas poem

i reside at table mountain
i expect you
have you seen walking through the village
for truth, for love
beautiful
do the boys and girls still go
there is a country full of wine
my mother twines me roses wet with dew
i am the wind that wavers
from floor to ceiling
noises that strive to tear
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
made up of loveliness alone

 



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