Wishing wells imbibe falling stones,
Ringing through with filtered tones.
Singing blank noise as they roil,
The pond beneath the surface soil.
A fair haired women with no eyes,
Sleeping deep beneath the flies.
Lies inside the tunneled sides,
Rolling up the stronger tides.
Disturbing loose old ghosted finds,
Charcoaled dreams and wishing lines.
Stripping pockets bare and empty,
Breaking hopes by the plenty.
2:48pm Wednesday, July 30 2008














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