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Short words / go up hills with dust.
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The poets are waiting in line
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Beauty pours in. Open your heart then. And if you find
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then I wish I had a tiny desk
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sand / churning, all eyes, all breath and green and gill.
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since the gold leaves have all
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Yes, the night does come and
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Ask for understanding; you shall
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You cannot pound
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If it guides us to light,
