Thursday, December 17, 2015


As If We Needed Another Autumn To

pull the plug

on summer

set the stage

for winter

strand seven apples

in a green glass

bowl on

a kitchen table

goad us

outdoors to

stand in 

 thrall to

sky blue yarn

unspooled to dusk

flinch at a flurry

of red and yellow hands that

clamor to

push us

to our knees

hold us down

weight our lids

with copper while we

count backward

lulled by wood

smoke, fleeting color

we need

like a goddamn hole

in the head

like someone


come along to

kick leaves

search for words

another poem

the last thing

we need night to

erase our outlines

free us


lean on rakes

inhale smoke

from a thousand

burning stanzas.

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