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prose poetry

wrap the earth in cloudy weather
weak-winged is song
the saddest of the year
to be able to see every side of every question
quietly, with reverance, in awe
world that changes under my hand
your body's motion is like music
i have come into the desert because my soul is athirst
with lips blood red and heart of stone
with the meek, brown eyes
did you ever hear of
i saw with open eyes
once this soft turf

 



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