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robin holcomb - this poem is in memory of! lyrics

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rifle aimed at the ceiling
just the one instrument
and you must have liked it here
and you stayed, sitting down

“old blue monk now there’s a pretty song”
warm wet shadows
the high bones of women beautifully wrapped
and smoke and powders

(dance among these)

(dance among these)

(dance among these)

(dance among these)



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