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Click hereFlues down hillsides
He stood at the edge and looked down
who would take the plunge,
why should the curved paths
in subterranean caverns hold water?
breakers cascade and dark wisps of ripples
fleet across the face of the water
scows move turgidly,
His thoughts turn over, lay,
limpid
Pools of her eyes and dank desires
Cloud his mind.
This poem was selected from Lit's archive of over 39,000 poems for inclusion in today's Archival Review.<br>
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