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slam poetry

i have seen the proudest stars
against the green flame of the hawthorn-tree
the shadows of the ships
along the banks
world that changes under my hand
the child who threw away leaf after leaf
i said, i have shut my heart
my soul goes clad in gorgeous things
noises that strive to tear
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
days endeared to every muse
in halls of sleep you wandered by
somewhere i read a strange, old, rusty tale

 



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