It’s the river

thick with flow

a moving mass

of air over motion

full of whispers

shadowed in

the past of me

near where

street cars

pound metal

and smoke stacks

send signals

raining soot in

alleys and corners

where pain and sweat

speak of days

of youth

once thought

never to end

where prayers

surfaced in storms

and angels

passed over

the windows

in the room

where I

looked down





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