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kid poem

once this soft turf
as a white candle
i said, i have shut my heart
some of the hurts you have cured
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
the endless, foolish merriment of stars
now that i have cooled to you
often i think of the beautiful town
above them all, looking down
in your flight
storm
before the solemn bronze saint
the child who threw away leaf after leaf

 



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