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fall poetry

though i am little as all little things
never in all my life
i saw the clouds among the hills
when a deed is done for freedom
little park that i pass through
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
i make my shroud, but no one knows
the snow whispers about me
there was a strangeness on your lips
your body's motion is like music
short and sweet, and we've come to the end of it

 



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