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black poetry

when you come tonight
there was a strangeness on your lips
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
with her hair flaying wildly
a flying word from here and there
green afternoon serene and bright
brother, i am fire
i am in love with high far-seeing places
afraid no more, i say
now for a brisk and cheerful fight
i shake my hair in the wind of morning

 



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