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friend, whose smile has come to be
with her hair flaying wildly
i love my life, but not too well
you are my companion
to some the fat gods
i am in love with high far-seeing places
i shake my hair in the wind of morning
just now
wheel me down by the meadow
under a spreading chestnut tree
this is the arsenal
darkest, strangest mystery
never in all my life

 



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