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narrative poetry

death's nobility again
i reside at table mountain
i have seen the proudest stars
i know not where
when freedom from her mountain height
under the harvest moon
within my hand i hold
over the rooftops race the shadows of clouds
give me hunger
the old songs
they threw a stone, you threw a stone
i do not pray for peace
why do
for i was a gaunt, grave councillor

 



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