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i miss you poem

just now
sleep, gray brother of death
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
white foam flower, red flame flower
who is the runner in the skies
had he and i but met
the fragrance came
as i lie roofed in, screened in
over the rooftops race the shadows of clouds
arched the flood
this is the arsenal
i go my way complacently

 



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