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suicide poem

their beautiful hair
like eagles on up high
the old west, the old time
be in me as the eternal moods
music i heard with you was more than music
this is the ship of pearl
sitting in his rocker waiting for your tea
i saw the clouds among the hills
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
i wonder where you live
in the dark and peace of my final bed

 



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