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lyric poem

from floor to ceiling
there was never a sound beside the wood but one
the darkness rolls upward
master of human destinies am i
look back with longing eyes and know that i will follow
backward, turn backward
by the shore, by the sea
under a spreading chestnut tree
beautiful, tragical faces
glass-blower of time
he's gone
tell me not
before the solemn bronze saint

 



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