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cowboy poetry

white foam flower, red flame flower
some one complained to the master
at midnight
one sweetly solemn thought
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
a thin gray shadow on the edge of thought
we lay
stand here by my side
beneath my window in a city street
under the harvest moon
by the rude bridge
i've won the race
there is a city, builded by no hand
i have cast the world

 



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