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brother poem

the child who threw away leaf after leaf
in halls of sleep you wandered by
my soul goes clad in gorgeous things
since i have felt the sense of death
fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room
there by the window in the old house
there is a city, builded by no hand
for then without
what do i owe to you
those black eyes i once so praised
your body's motion is like music
melancholy, blue it was

 



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