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christian poem

city that is not a city
tripping up, falling down
fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room
i have come into the desert because my soul is athirst
pushing out, struggling vainly
had he and i but met
when sea-winds pierced our solitudes
he came and took me by the hand
when night drifts along the streets of the city
dear wife
i had over-prepared the event
out of the sparkling sea
the old songs

 



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