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a circle around your head quiet against the noise, shade from the lights Avalon Avalon, isle of the dead, in the west, where heroes go after they die— Avenal where do your young men go? hot coal in no one’s mouth, dying day by day to Avenal— Do you remember? Do you remember? my mouth black and blue from your starved mouth— I didn’t know anything. I didn’t know I was from the way life was before . . . your fire skin soft as a horse’s black muzzle, soft, soft black hair of love, white hair on your head —Now they have muzzled you. That life, we couldn’t stop, the sun went down, spring snow was coming was coming Advent Calendar In the tiny window for December 21st, the shortest day, 32 door in the mountain ...

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