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erotic poem

i know what you're going to say
brief on a flying night
if the red slayer think he slays
i am singing to you
as a white candle
with the meek, brown eyes
he speaks not well
over the rooftops race the shadows of clouds
world that changes under my hand
from song and dream for ever gone
under a spreading chestnut tree
i saw god. do you doubt it?
doubtless i remember still

 



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