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teen poetry

a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
as a naked man i go
days endeared to every muse
little gate was reached at last
the fragrance came
that strange companion came on shuffling feet
therefore i may not
earth travails
there was never a sound beside the wood but one
i fill this cup
when the hours of day are numbered
who will be naming the wind
star-dust and vaporous light

 



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