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halloween poetry

a poet, having taken the bridle off his tongue
she knows a cheap release
those on the top say they know you, earth-they are liars
i loathed you
i walk down the garden paths
why are the things that have no death
be in me as the eternal moods
she burst fierce wine
the mountains they are silent folk
why do you always stand there shivering
this ancient silver bowl of mine
there is a country full of wine

 



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