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lyric poetry

i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
candles toppling sideways in tomato cans
do i like it
sitting in his rocker waiting for your tea
eighty years have passed, and more
this ancient silver bowl of mine
we who stood
i saw the first pear
little park that i pass through
it was many and many a year ago
melancholy, blue it was

 



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