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days changed and days erased
slid out from under our feet
the feral cries of strangled hours
dying and dangling in the wind

down by the river
the current mutters low
gurgling the thick chants
of swimming eyes below

beyond the din of slots
of strict minutes penciled in
and tasks heaped upon the ledger
we hear the laugh of the lilies

down by the river
The water’s chuckling song
drifts past the pylons
of shadows growing long

(Words and images Copyright 2012 by Michael Kallstrom)

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