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- ON DAYS
LIKE THESE PAINTING DAYS
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- All the world
is white,
- because white
is the colour of the paint
- Of
walls and doors and banisters.
-
- And my mind is
white,
- And memories of
you are white,
- Who
used to paint me red
- And lick me
with fiery wine.
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- Now I get into
bed, scrubbed
- And more
hollow, into the night,
- Which is white
with stars.
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