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dark poetry

my true love from her pillow rose
how like the stars are these white, nameless faces
to clothe the fiery thought
i see all human wits
are you awake?
i have had one fear in my life
the air is like a butterfly
city that is not a city
the darkness steals the forms of all the queens
so lost
the arches of the red bridge
the endless, foolish merriment of stars
in new york harbor
i go my way complacently

 



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