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teen poem

are you alive?
my son is dead and i am going blind
one by one, like leaves from a tree
what do i owe to you
glooms of the live-oaks
those on the top say they know you, earth-they are liars
from floor to ceiling
how wild, how witch-like weird that life should be
let us express our baser passions
to be able to see every side of every question
when sea-winds pierced our solitudes

 



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