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The Sword Excalibur

by on Mar 29, 2016 in Poetry | 0 comments

Old these hills and old the stone Ploughed the grave and broke the bone Long the grass on paths forgot To camps and kingdoms which are not Lost the songs of feast and raid Dead the king and rust his blade. Ore Picking at the rock like scabs to ease the dirt’s itch is one thing, wounding...

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