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teenage love poem

i gazed upon the glorious sky
the long resounding marble corridors
which i wish to remark
still her gray rocks tower above the sea
she must go back, she said
fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
lo! 'tis a gala night
the single clenched fist lifted and ready
i burn no incense
stay no more
out of the deep and the dark
there is no escape by the river
these be

 



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