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short poem

i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
sad are they who know not love
not from the whole wide world
but i cannot read you now
for these white arms about my neck
royal feast was done
is there anybody there
she burst fierce wine
and still they walked on
the snow whispers about me
i flung my soul to the air like a falcon flying
were it not for that singular smell
sleep sweetly in your humble graves

 



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