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concrete poetry

still her gray rocks tower above the sea
when i was broke in london
like eagles on up high
sad are they who know not love
the body may confine
when the veil from the eyes is lifted
there is an hour of peaceful rest
give me hunger
i have heard that a certain princess
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
happiness
braided and woven
while i stood listening, discreetly dumb

 



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