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in the ponds of mountain no tomorrow mother loon croons her songs of sorrow and though the tufts of storms blow by she will not quit her phantom cry the corpses of canoes will sink and lift
Once upon a time the was a boy in a mahogany canoe. The boy and his mahogany canoe drifted down a stream that contained memories of an individual in the water's reflections. From what the boy could percieve he saw a young
Out on a canoe Surrounded by lily pads Over puny fish Underneath a comforting Cerulean canopy
Subscribe to canoe