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Night Dark
Praire dogs sing high the dark poem
To let the sky but vanish young
And bear it dark upon its shoulder
To the peaks of all perfections
And the burrows of below
Sing high the dark poem
And leash the dusty night forth the rotten earth
But sitting in the sun for way too long
As the canyons coil dusty voice
To the paled chubby moon
The marble of my face
Cracks a mending smile
And yet still crying all the while
