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prose poetry

it was many and many a year ago
there was a strangeness on your lips
among the smoke and fog of a december afternoon
this is the arsenal
under dusky laurel leaf
when sea-winds pierced our solitudes
i bid them all farewell
did you ever hear of
how like the stars are these white, nameless faces
those on the top say they know you, earth-they are liars
let us plant
i walk down the garden paths

 



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