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autumn poem

in your arms was still delight
to some the fat gods
the agony of having too much power
i am a woman
gloom
let us plant
we lay
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
all my love for my sweet
under a spreading chestnut tree
i have known the silence of the stars and of the sea
i think it just splendid

 



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