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father poem

through the broad earth's aching breast
i went up and down the streets
i wonder where you live
splendid and terrible your love
there are gains for all our losses
tell me
there was never a sound beside the wood but one
as i lie roofed in, screened in
above them all, looking down
i expect you
old wine to drink
perhaps it is no matter that you died
the swan existing
babylon-where i go dreaming

 



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