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poem for pastors

i have to say good-night
arched the flood
passing through huddled and ugly walls
do not turn your head
she burst fierce wine
and as we walked the grass was faintly stirred
simply speaking
stir
over the river they beckon to me
three years ago today
green afternoon serene and bright
with her hair flaying wildly
when night drifts along the streets of the city

 



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