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Panning for gold (Free verse) by INTRANSIT

I went on my way in hopes to find.... But it seems all I created was a mountainous pile of tree bark for my blacktop plunderings. And dreamland never came. In the little bird house, my grey mattered knife cuts me again Sending my ghost away and leaving my eagle to cree-yaw in its' cage.

Bill Z Bub 9-Dec-02/10:58 AM
Cool.




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