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New Moon

How much it must bear on its back,
a great ball of blue shadow,
yet somehow it shines, keeps up
an appearance. For hours tonight,
I walked beneath it, learning.
I want to be better at carrying sorrow.
If my face is a mask, formed over
the shadows that fill me,
may I smile on the world like the moon.

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The language about poetry

From aubade to zuihitsu, 207 definitions of the forms, figures, and schools that shape the line.

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