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fall poetry

be not angry with me
i flung my soul to the air like a falcon flying
softly now the light of day
the old songs
are you alive?
why do
a poet, having taken the bridle off his tongue
what shall we do now
i know not where
out of the window a sea of green trees
all my love for my sweet
my soul is a dark ploughed field
i saw the clouds among the hills
give me hunger

 



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