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grandma poem

music i heard with you was more than music
and as we walked the grass was faintly stirred
how like the stars are these white, nameless faces
i was a goddess ere the marble found me
beautiful, tragical faces
world that changes under my hand
long has the summer sunlight shone
brother, i am fire
a look is but a ray
he's gone
this ancient silver bowl of mine
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
under the harvest moon

 



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