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son poem

death's nobility again
let me move slowly through the street
brother, i am fire
at dawn, he said
where shall i find you
we lay
city that is not a city
she must go back, she said
pushing out, struggling vainly
before the solemn bronze saint
looking beyond
when i was a boy at college
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies

 



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