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slam poetry

noises that strive to tear
out of the deep and the dark
a mist was driving down
with lips blood red and heart of stone
the agony of having too much power
i saw god. do you doubt it?
sun stepped down from his golden throne
it was a tall young oysterman
the meadow was creeping
why then, must we see?
she must go back, she said
when you come tonight

 



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