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gothic poetry

it was a tall young oysterman
at midnight
do not turn your head
bring me soft song
brother, i am fire
i have heard them in the night
i have known the silence of the stars and of the sea
and how could you dream of meeting
white foam flower, red flame flower
truely
i stood by the open casement
i flung my soul to the air like a falcon flying
earth travails

 



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