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baby poem

their beautiful hair
of sun nor stars
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
dark-eyed
as i lie roofed in, screened in
i saw you hunched and shivering on the stones
in his guarded tent
she might have known it in the earlier spring
thoughts through my head
in the sphere
i can not tell you now
you are my companion
the darkness rolls upward

 



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