MYSINA

Mysina is a place I know 

Not a town, really, just a juncture called Mysina

It was a crossroads I would pass twice in the afternoon

Those days, when I knew pleasure, knew the edges of the county

Geography of flesh turned landscape 

When age did not matter

Before time measured all distances 

Before I realized my sin

Mysina is a place I know 

Not a town, really, just a juncture called Mysina

Geography of flesh turned landscape 

When age did not matter 

Before time measured all distances 

Before I realized my sin

My sin: a result of trying to go more than one direction at a time

Mysina is a place I know 

Not a town, really, just a juncture called Mysina