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best friend poem

what do i owe to you
the dawn was apple-green
had he and i but met
how like the stars are these white, nameless faces
i expect you
desolate and lone
beside a stricken field
in and of itself
i saw with open eyes
out of the deep and the dark
into the silent land
little gate was reached at last
white foam flower, red flame flower
it was a tall young oysterman

 



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