11.16.09
a fall rerun
original post a bit of time ago Let me get a grip on this day before Six thousand crunches underfoot each leaf is a different day in time, Faded like painted lines of a soccer field
I give up.
Because the leaves (of hues impossible)
Are fallen, a revelation of
Truth in branches bare,
Multiplied in their
Outward,
Upward
Skyward
Spread
And a smell almost metallic
Urgent like a last drive
(post pattern, seven Mississippi –
Hurry-up offense while snot dries in the wind that picks up while muted colors
Blue
Brown
Green
blend into early evening
as dinnertime smells drift aloft
that has finally come to rest
in unbound collage
random misrememberances misplaced by the wind
soon, they decompose and one unbecomes one and
returns,
as the boundaries disappear
like
gray trees
against gray sky
over gray men
whose gray dog’s grandfather stood watch
fifty-seven Novembers ago
Regret,
As I
Regress,
Idyllic disconnect
Lament is every leaf upon my car
(I cannot clear the strays upon my seat –
So I take them with me
In my intraplanetary travels
But it’s no use
Their crunch not never-ending
Orange, bygone








