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funny poetry

short and sweet, and we've come to the end of it
noises that strive to tear
all those treasures that lie
when you come tonight
among the smoke and fog of a december afternoon
mysterious night
a poet, having taken the bridle off his tongue
the ancient songs
like him whose spirit in the blaze of noon
all quiet along the potomac
the darkness rolls upward
i loathed you
lady, your heart has turned to dust

 



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