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modern poetry

friend, whose smile has come to be
high walls and huge
i made a vow once, one only
noises that strive to tear
perhaps it is no matter that you died
i saw you hunched and shivering on the stones
lived by the river-side
the stars fell from heaven
in all things not spoken of
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
glooms of the live-oaks
white foam flower, red flame flower

 



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