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memorial poem

i had over-prepared the event
birds against the april wind
world that changes under my hand
and with the humming bird
let me move slowly through the street
a poet, having taken the bridle off his tongue
sleep sweetly in your humble graves
at dawn, he said
before the solemn bronze saint
stuff of the moon
as a naked man i go
i have heard that a certain princess
i do not pray for peace

 



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