Stream of Thought

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(internet photo)

Noise.
Sounds and smells swirl.
A muddy pile
ready for trash can,
or possibly recycling.

Words recycle themselves
on the page,
powerless to escape
the strike of the pen.
Smooth ink flows.
A river confident in its strength,
its ability to carve landscapes,
reshape its borders.

Boundaries.
Fence posts to navigate.
Or, maybe, grab onto
if the water gets too rough.