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teen poetry

were it not for that singular smell
when i was a boy at college
to what shall a woman liken her beloved
by the shore, by the sea
the hypocritic days
he came and took me by the hand
fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room
perhaps
out of me unworthy and unknown
the pale day drowses on the western steep
glass-blower of time
up and down he goes
over the rooftops race the shadows of clouds

 



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