Saturday, May 30, 2009

unfinished poetry.

i started writing this poem in april and then moved on to other things. i don't think i'll be able to return to it any more, so for whatever it's worth, here:

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Of all that hold me accused, this
I know: my youth is spent 
on strangers. I have flung my
heart at tramps and travelling soldiers,
wayward boys under lamplights, greying
men at railstations with their
untold lives of embers and sweetness 
and sorrow.

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