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cowboy poetry

soft as the bed in the earth
mysterious night
we who stood
be not angry with me
sweet splendor
i reside at table mountain
to come so soon to this imagined dark
when sea-winds pierced our solitudes
had he and i but met
though i am little as all little things
master of human destinies am i
love me at last, or if you will not
with her hair flaying wildly

 



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