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epic poetry

i made a vow once, one only
the old songs
at midnight
no prey am i of poor thoughts
i fill this cup
it was a tall young oysterman
your body's motion is like music
sitting in his rocker waiting for your tea
that year
beautiful
who loves the rain
a poet, having taken the bridle off his tongue
a few more windy days
take my bracelets

 



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