24 November 2007

The leaves are a thing to lose,
The lawn of yellow points.
Un-image a measure of days,
A season distempered both
In time's gray subsequence
And a separation all-ordained, unseen.

18 November 2007


In the autumn street of leaves
'Dressed, posted, returned--
Nature's speculation's done.
Hued brevity now, underfoot slid, wind moved
As we, unvolitioned in love's season.

11 November 2007


Dawn's light solitude
In comfort chill and robed thought
And spotted pane accompany,
Turns isolation's stiff yeared
Unbellied cat in hall darkness,
And blind lashed, streaked and dusty sill.

05 November 2007

In approximation,
The moment rounded with a scud
Of low concern and cloud--
The misfiled, the blotted
Sun running in monochrome seams,
A striated score to this arc of day.
A plainsong of air, of nothing
In silence, and surprise.