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poems

look out upon the stars, my love
city that is not a city
in all things not spoken of
behold me, in my chiffon, gauze and tinsel
when night drifts along the streets of the city
good woman
death's nobility again
there is no escape by the river
lady, your heart has turned to dust
when i looked into your eyes
and as we walked the grass was faintly stirred
among the mountains i wandered
not from the whole wide world
the dawn was apple-green

 



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