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erotic poem

no prey am i of poor thoughts
fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room
why do you always stand there shivering
these hearts were woven of human joys and cares
be in me as the eternal moods
i love to steal awhile away
the little pitiful, worn, laughing faces
over the river they beckon to me
that year
if i were very sure
he speaks not well
thoughts through my head

 



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