Thursday, August 17, 2006

all my sad men

sound the same to my heart. they all
walk their twilit gullies, trailing
their fingertips over bumpy, mossy walls-
across silent curtains-
up and down the grain of a
distant skin-

all my sad men

weigh their syllables unconsciously,
musing their secret griefs like
pebbles on a scale, pondered
paint-strokes of weary beauty. all

my sad men

are the colour

of nostalgia

[for b]

Mina at 8:03 PM