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epic poetry

i am fevered
star-dust and vaporous light
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
the endless, foolish merriment of stars
this ancient silver bowl of mine
since, if you stood by my side today
babylon-where i go dreaming
it was a tall young oysterman
in your arms was still delight
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
i have had one fear in my life
i reside at table mountain

 



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