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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.
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