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poetry in motion

within this lowly grave a conqueror lies
to some the fat gods
they threw a stone, you threw a stone
somewhere i read a strange, old, rusty tale
i went up and down the streets
good woman
mysterious night
there was a strangeness on your lips
last night the full moon laid a cloth of white
o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
it tells of good old times

 



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