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short love poem

why are the things that have no death
sleep, gray brother of death
i never knew the earth had so much gold
it was a tall young oysterman
to clothe the fiery thought
rocked in the cradle of the deep
weak-winged is song
when sea-winds pierced our solitudes
the agony of having too much power
how like the stars are these white, nameless faces
of sun nor stars
the sky
i heard the wind all day

 



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