A Fine Film Of Sadness
A Fine Film of Melancholy
On the morning track gossamers blocked my path, on them hung morning dew,
like glittering pearls of insane perfection; and in the zephyr I heard a faint peel.
Tears not cried, yet full of sadness, fell to hard, stony ground. Picked up a rock,
man’s first missile, threw it, for no reason, into the bushes. There are places
where vegetation is sparse, life hard, they still execute people for transgression,
say adultery, by stoning. We, who have made pornography into a mainstream
thing, “looking at pictures of other people having sex) are shocked by this. But
we kill a murder suspect, who can’t afford a good lawyer, by lethal injection.
The gossamers, sheer and delicate will be rebuilt I will have to break as few as
possible tomorrow. Melancholy, I can’t do anything about un-cried tears; they
will dry as the day rolls on and the evening breeze will give us peace of mind
poem by Oskar Hansen
Added by Poetry Lover
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