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cowboy poetry

i do not pray for peace
on and on
be not angry with me
she heard the children playing in the sun
darkest, strangest mystery
glass-blower of time
have you seen walking through the village
they threw a stone, you threw a stone
take my bracelets
the meadow was creeping
green afternoon serene and bright
i flung my soul to the air like a falcon flying
shines the last age, the next with hope is seen
i am fevered

 



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