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gothic poetry

a bird sang
how wild, how witch-like weird that life should be
soft as the bed in the earth
all day to watch the blue wave curl and break
stern cold man
out of the deep and the dark
i saw god. do you doubt it?
the ancient songs
i loathed you
do not grieve that it is over
winged shadows sweeping by
a sky that has never known sun, moon or stars
tell me
to the passionate lover

 



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