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family poem

sleep, gray brother of death
still her gray rocks tower above the sea
the darkness rolls upward
there by the window in the old house
i cannot always feel his greatness
when freedom from her mountain height
those on the top say they know you, earth-they are liars
backward, turn backward
all within and all without me
fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room
in new york harbor
through the broad earth's aching breast

 



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