Will Schutt

Ferry

Hell, it feels like nothingis carrying you across like you’re packed in bulrush  following the river forward or a motor with its little propeller   propped out of the water in back of the boat  staring up at easy beauty and thinking of those lines  that push one planet  this way and pull another thatwhy should your foot  feel for the mainlandor your hand napkin up the gunk  your boots won’t leave behind hear the river? It says 

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