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prose poetry

babylon-where i go dreaming
while i stood listening, discreetly dumb
dark-eyed
royal feast was done
i saw the clouds among the hills
she limps with halting painful pace
the swan existing
there were three in the meadow by the brook
i reside at table mountain
when freedom from her mountain height
with lips blood red and heart of stone
why then, must we see?
and as we walked the grass was faintly stirred
the long resounding marble corridors

 



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