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friend poetry

i expect you
awful truths these be
tripping up, falling down
god
a little peach in the orchard grew
if i should die, think only this of me
is there anybody there
as a naked man i go
days endeared to every muse
all day to watch the blue wave curl and break
uplifting, as the wind blew
this ancient silver bowl of mine
renew the vision of delight
rising moon has hid the stars

 



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