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christian poem

once this soft turf
sweet splendor
out of the deep and the dark
do not turn your head
among the mountains i wandered
there were three in the meadow by the brook
candles toppling sideways in tomato cans
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
it was many and many a year ago
which i wish to remark
to what shall a woman liken her beloved
if the red slayer think he slays

 



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