Monday, April 18, 2011

Lonely wind.

Smoke thin enough to bypass the feathers of a fan
Finds a stop in each diaphanous glance.

Each star seeks a buttonhole in which it might wink,
And so rare is the mercy of space that it will wait ages.

Smoke thin, but only so thin for the fan--
Such are the prejudices of the lonely and their choir of mismatched songs.

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