Charles Simic quotes

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Only brooms
Know the devil
Still exists,

That the snow grows whiter
After a crow has flown over it,
And then finally there's your grandmother
Sweeping the dust of the nineteenth century
They are sworn enemies of lyric poetry.
In prison they accompany the jailer,
There are knives that glitter like altars
In a dark church
This strange thing must have crept
Right out of hell.
It resembles a bird's foot
Worn around the cannibal's neck.
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