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the poetry of Charles Fry

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2009–2013

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1994–1993

13 February 2009

the king

night swoons
again
without you
no crowded light will reveal
your presence tonight
alone
I must seek you
in each passing face

once your distance
gored my breast
but now I tire
endless betrayal
selfish sorrow

did I ever love you?
was I loved by you?
love?
all I know are my hands
and my weeping heart

 each morning   i come in peace   with one final kiss   looking for you   castle in the mist   Bakery Square   dreaming of you   airport   black and white   It must have been a dozen years since we last spoke.   Trudging down the street.   one more day   my guitar hands   what a night.   Why did they need both the Atlantic and the Pacific?   as this morning's light   the king