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sorry poem

it was a tall young oysterman
i expect you
god
perhaps it is no matter that you died
see, from this counterfeit of him
be not false
renew the vision of delight
but alas, just dreams
will you glimmer on the sea?
up from the south at break of day
who will be naming the wind
i loved a woman
as a white candle
a very remarkable history this is

 



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