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def poetry jam

no prey am i of poor thoughts
my mother twines me roses wet with dew
and breaketh bread no more
i said
i know what you're going to say
what was it the engines said
when i looked into your eyes
through the broad earth's aching breast
rocked in the cradle of the deep
love has been sung a thousand ways
beautiful, tragical faces
brief on a flying night
sun stepped down from his golden throne
my son is dead and i am going blind

 



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