Friday, September 15, 2006

October 31st.

When the mind hunts for small words, half inches of memories coming forth, unwritten sentences from the future, and a woman chained to a while ago... words homeless by grief... exceed the streets, the mind, fingers, and the measurements. Rain washes me true and the beats star-free the time... I lean against the one dry wall... ache and remember you... my eyes are embroidered... my heart carefully is listening... your birthday is closing by... listening for your day... listening for your day... Mama.