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acrostic poem

how shall i help to right the world that is going wrong
i make my shroud, but no one knows
a flying word from here and there
from our hidden places
grieve not for the invisible
gaily through the fields we danced
very well, you liberals
last night the full moon laid a cloth of white
do i like it
some of the hurts you have cured
a sky that has never known sun, moon or stars
she was a beauty in the days
the ships are lying in the bay
i burn no incense

 



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