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contemporary poetry

grieve not for the invisible
as a white candle
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
splendid and terrible your love
gone before us
there by the window in the old house
the earth keeps some vibration going
if i had known how narrow a prison is love
we were not many
in halls of sleep you wandered by
in the sphere
when i was broke in london

 



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