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wedding poetry

see, they return
somewhere i read a strange, old, rusty tale
just now
wheel me down by the meadow
candles toppling sideways in tomato cans
day is done
tripping up, falling down
he speaks not well
the agony of having too much power
death's nobility again
and as we walked the grass was faintly stirred
i stood
here lies a most beautiful lady

 



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