Randy Rich

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Gift Of A Poem

I bring you the child of an Idumaean night!
Black, with wing bleeding, pale and unfeathered,
Through the glass burnt with incense and gold,
Through the panes, frozen, and still gloomy, alas

The Afternoon Of A Faun

These nymphs I would perpetuate.

So clear
Their light carnation, that it floats in the air


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7/27/2021 8:09:41 AM #