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fall poem

sleep, gray brother of death
night is dark, and the winter winds
come down at dawn from windless hills
and my name is truthful
the darkness
i expect you
i gazed upon the glorious sky
some of the hurts you have cured
and as we walked the grass was faintly stirred
why do
they threw a stone, you threw a stone
white foam flower, red flame flower

 



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