Autumn Metropolis
peace garden
the nonresistance
of leaves
back alleys
it’s not whether but how
we go to seed
Poesie sull''argomento: autumn
Poesie sull''argomento «autumn» su Poets.by.
The Hollow (37)
among straight ascenders
an ancient grapevine’s
grave accent
the last white asters
the woods are darkest
just before the fall
weak sunlight
witch hazel beginning
to extrude its rays
so green you’d think
it’s still spring
Christmas fern
The Hollow (20)
one katydid
this late in the season
texting my wife
migrant flycatcher
swiping its beak back and forth
on a bare branch
a plastic toy football
unearthed by the summer floods
all the stream’s voices
rain-softened ground
even the gravel road
has a bit of give
Project
Gray, ugly, already starting
to crumble. What the project’s
planners had meant it to say
was: The future is here.
What the residents heard:
You do not belong.
Fortunately, it was possible
to pry the windows open.
On any given night,
you could stand on the street
& watch the litter sail out:
Happy Meal bags, cigarette butts
leaving trails of sparks,
yesterday’s paper.
This year-round autumn
blanketed the courtyard,
Next Life
The skull whose name was smoke spoke
worm words. Its missing teeth hissed
from the gizzard of an owl.
How odd, I thought, to be a skull
& haunt a body from within!
The air smelled of rotting
leaves; it was October.
Icy feathers began to form
on the edges of grass blades—
the only kind of next life
that made sense to me, stoned as I was.
My gut gurgled polyphonically.
I considered fear as if from a great height.
Adieu
Let us then, do not lie
Though we lie next to each.
Let us then, do not touch
If our hearts so belie.
Let us then, do not kiss
Bereft of warmth are our lips.
Let not our eyes look at us
Blinds are drawn, the windows dark.
Let us then, do not let love
Fall into a habit like brushing the teeth.
Scatter the past to the rising wind
Like leaves fluttering in the Fall.
Let us then, not pretend to love
No reprimand for not being in love.
Life is a journey not bound on leash,
Let us, my love, now let us leave.
Haiku 38
Thursday happy hour
tabletop, sticky with beer
a saint, undisturbed
Bus driver, stone-faced
under a handlebar ‘stache
lets the cyclist live
Power, knowing that
you never get this moment
to regurgitate
“I am still freezing”
from Tolstoy’s summation of
his Russian winter
That someone would come
along but no, really you
have to save yourself
Seahawks umbrella
Haikus
Bright, yet beautiful
Light fills the room with a glow,
Almost like Heaven.
Autumn shaded leaves
Fall gracefully to the ground,
Lighter than laughter.
The constant burn of
The sun, lingers on your skin
More stable than love.
A winter wind blows
Snow, across a field of black
Like our differences.
A hard rain falls down,
Causing a pool to ripple
Like problems we face.
Poised, and elegant
FALL
Fall.
What a funny word - fall.
As in tumbling towards cold?
As in slipping on a pavement?
As in stumbling in your cheer?
Fall.
Rainy days and melancholy.
Bittersweet moments are back to haunt the lightheaded mind.
Winter will be nicer; it won't be so... insecure.
Fall.
And yet a rise of new beginnings.
New friends, new experiences, new lives to discover.
It's never too dark, even after the bright heat has gone away.
Fall.
Which can be so bright. Or so very dark.
It all points to you -
ALMANAC 51
October leaves jostle in sedge.
Unleashed greyhound bolts.
Kittiwakes plunge aloof.
Morose sea fidgets.
The nerveless cliff
Will not ground your load.
Heart breake
In The moment she went, my heart broke in 1.000.000 shards
The cold Autom wind crawled through the holes in the facade into the small, dark room, whirled up my orange curles to a tornado and then disappeared with the remnants of my heart into the empty of the night.
If I'd really wanted to, I could have picked up the shards and perched them together .
But why the effort?
I haven't felt anything for a long time...
At least not until I met her.
* * *
Many years ago
the sea in the picture
the days vast
vague
partial
mid sports
as never were
the leaves' tide
floats autumn
a time
the foreground
so clear
wicker chair
the individual
woman in it
a hat some