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friend poetry

we who stood
beneath my window in a city street
somewhere i read a strange, old, rusty tale
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
in the cloud-gray mornings
could we but know
the swan existing
i reside at table mountain
within this lowly grave a conqueror lies
while i stood listening, discreetly dumb
the sun is up
i saw him once before
thoughts through my head

 



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