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contemporary poetry

i love to steal awhile away
out of the window a sea of green trees
sleep sweetly in your humble graves
high-born race
i sometimes wonder if it's really true
a little peach in the orchard grew
out of the sparkling sea
while i stood listening, discreetly dumb
here falls no light
all quiet along the potomac
as a naked man i go
i go my way complacently
i never knew the earth had so much gold
in new york harbor

 



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