Haunted by Waters

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Old 29-Oct-2010
Haunted by Waters

You strive to roll your prose
as the river in your youth
rolled cobbles round and smooth,
but words are lunker trout
lurking under willows
or lolling in the shallows.

You long to launch your flies
like an artist from the pastó
a canvas-vested Marlowe
crafting cutthroat tragedies
with every shadow-cast
at the Blackfoot's braided eddies.

Reckless Marlowe, feckless Pauló
whose fault is a tavern brawl?
With empty creel you hobble
beside a silted channel,
mourning the stricken river
and your murdered brother.

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