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erotic poem

we who stood
is there anybody there
sun stepped down from his golden throne
thoughts through my head
i have heard them in the night
how wild, how witch-like weird that life should be
one with you
i am fevered
my soul is a dark ploughed field
like him whose spirit in the blaze of noon
in your flight
you are beautiful and faded
if the red slayer think he slays

 



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