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concrete poetry

what shall we do now
up to her chamber window
often is it not so?
is there anybody there
behold me, in my chiffon, gauze and tinsel
she has a clear, wind-sheltered loveliness
do you think, my boy, when i put my arms around you
the agony of having too much power
while i stood listening, discreetly dumb
i have known the silence of the stars and of the sea
the long resounding marble corridors
one with you

 



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