Friday, May 9, 2008

How To Season Thin Steak

Dreams


No song passed the river,
why would it be?.
leak path width,
must be silent.
With eyes of other years,
and other times I looked,
harvested on a watchtower,
the palm of Montiel.
The shadow of my horse,
by the river I saw.
The shadow of my horse,
riverside I saw.
I was struck at the soul,
the miles I walked on it.

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