(a sonnet)
it all just shuffles just shrugs away
near the eve of the equinox
the sky is already painted in autumn
there is no point in dodging the moon,
old tired-eyed daemon (yes one must believe
one must believe in gatormen too
and firetrolls and mermaids
else the world is too flat-faced)
floating in near darkness unmoored
and hoping the lines will hold
knowing only temporary ones do
under reflections by vulgar man-made lights
the river writhes oily: a snake
learning its new skin
Category Archives: Autumn
Autumn 2023, no. 22
all fires are meditative, even forest fires
watching the burners I remember the year
the mountain burned, an Easten Kentucky town
flooded and the world did not end then, either
it’s all water now and fire:
the elements have finally taken me
governed by thermodynamics and pressure
I watch the wind and river traffic
in my dreams I feel the rocking of waves
the whole of this land ship not yet asunder
Autumn 2023, no. 21
birds practice murmurations
these bones are all creak and rust
we sing the transition of a season
that has yet to unfold