Saturday, June 11, 2011

Dark River

The dark river churns;
It sings to lonely hills,
And sweeps the babbling brooks.

The dark river burns;
It bends the mind
With turns, forks, and hooks.

The dark river flows;
It beckons to shadow,
And holds mountains in its palm.

The dark river runs;
It speaks to wild places,
Of faded lights, and whispers, and song.

--Wesley Dylan Gray is a writer with a flair for the dark, the twisted, the beautiful, and the strange. He resides in Tarpon Springs, Florida with his wife Brenda and daughter Elizabeth “Ellie” Jadzia. His poetry and prose has appeared in various small press magazines and anthologies. Find him online at

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