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slam poetry

the darkness steals the forms of all the queens
not from the whole wide world
weak-winged is song
along a river-side
love me at last, or if you will not
how like the stars are these white, nameless faces
never in all my life
where shall i find you
the darkness rolls upward
night is dark, and the winter winds
i am singing to you
i am in love with high far-seeing places

 



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