Archive for November, 2017

Far left.

Half the year

green tunnels

enclose the roads

and paths,

surround the fields,

plump the ridgelines,

make forest something

you must enter into,

that you cannot see through;

the fall of almost all

the green

brings back the long lines

and contours of the ground;

and contrary for a month or two
displays all the colors we can see
that are not green.

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Middle left.

Even as the great undressing

has been underway a while

and only bare wood limbs stand

most ways you turn you eyes,

stubborn lingering displays

of bright

and joyful color

defy

the trend

to ground,

for a few days more.

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Left in the woods.

It’s all over now,

rain storms

and windstorms

have stripped the branches

of all these hangers-on

from a fortnight ago

but we were given

a long slow fall

until gravity and the trees’ release
brought all to ground.

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Leavings.

Makes your eyes ache, almost,

nowhere to settle

in the profusion of colors

and textures

extending in all directions.

Your focus narrows to a single specimen

then pulls wide

across a carpeted path

or field

where boggling myriads

of discrete gifts,

display the beauty of a billion little deaths
which enable suspended life for winter survival
whose eventual decay will feed the summer forest.

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Gold bug.

I’m working my passage on a fancy cruise ship
— well, my story is set on such a vessel —
I’m closing on Barbados,
when something flutters, then stops,
out of sight, behind my screen.
I stand and look over.

As liberal shepherds know dead men’s fingers by a grosser name
so do these creatures have a vulgar vulgar name,

but she visits me tonight in a dazzling carapace
specked with gems.

The enemy of my tomato is also my enemy, I know this,
but her brief passage falls outside the usual times and terms.

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