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lost love poem

under dusky laurel leaf
out of the window a sea of green trees
who will be naming the wind
brother, i am fire
sing again the song you sung
quietly, with reverance, in awe
in his guarded tent
i know not where
high walls and huge
we break the glass whose sacred wine
star-dust and vaporous light
on and on
your body's motion is like music
the old west, the old time

 



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