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anniversary poetry

no prey am i of poor thoughts
i have come into the desert because my soul is athirst
truely
eighty years have passed, and more
let me move slowly through the street
i was a goddess ere the marble found me
in new york harbor
the child who threw away leaf after leaf
the endless, foolish merriment of stars
if i were very sure
as a white candle
sun and wind and beat of sea

 



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