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Thanks

Listen
with the night falling we are saying thank you
we are stopping on the bridges to bow for the railings
we are running out of the glass rooms
with our mouths full of food to look at the sky



 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 











Perhaps Not To Be Is To Be Without Your Being

Perhaps not to be is to be without your being,
without your going, that cuts noon light
like a blue flower, without your passing


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 












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