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love poetry

not from the whole wide world
little gate was reached at last
the single clenched fist lifted and ready
listen
the hypocritic days
a storm is riding on the tide
earth travails
as a naked man i go
i cannot always feel his greatness
be in me as the eternal moods
blossoms of babies
those on the top say they know you, earth-they are liars
when the hours of day are numbered

 



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