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sex poem

the mountains they are silent folk
be patient, life, when love is at the gate
sleep sweetly in your humble graves
who will be naming the wind
still her gray rocks tower above the sea
i am in love with high far-seeing places
like eagles on up high
the darkness rolls upward
what was it the engines said
some one complained to the master
babylon-where i go dreaming
the earth keeps some vibration going

 



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