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fall poetry

grieve not for the invisible
looking beyond
i saw the clouds among the hills
all those treasures that lie
royal feast was done
and as we walked the grass was faintly stirred
in their ragged regimentals
while i stood listening, discreetly dumb
let me move slowly through the street
he's gone
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges

 



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