Fall Morning

November 9, 2015

I wake in the morning, and it’s still dark;
The winter grey has come.
Light shiver from the kiss of cold air
And the sharpness that pierces
Like an arrow when I breathe.
Trees outside my windows droop,
Beams in the wedding hall undecked,
The few leaves are mere remnants of a dream
Of summer racing through the streets.
Yes, summer, with its promise of forever,
Hinted but never spoken,
And now in these dark northern days
With iron clad skies, summer’s mocking laughter echoes.
Come, lets rise from this slumber
And walk the grey streets, with grey skies and grey people,
All funeral quiet with listless eyes,
And face the wreckage of dreams, all dreams
As they and I
Wish to be elsewhere, anywhere, but here.


Friends – Julio Cortazar

November 6, 2015

out of the smokes, the coffee and the wine
they rise to appear at the edge of night
like those voices you hear singing somewhere
far down the street, what song you can’t make out.

Brothers whom destiny has loosely bound,
sons of Zeus, pale shades, they shoo the flies
of my habits and they keep me afloat
when the vortex threatens to suck me down.

The dead speak louder, whispering the past,
the living are a warm hand and a roof:
my total losses and my total gains.

So one day, when I’m ferried through the gloom,
I’ll cinch their absence to me like a vest
of this old tenderness that says their names.


November 4, 2015

Listen, listen to the song of Evenfall,
To lingering notes of summers retreat,
The long winding tune of fading fire
And the haunting of silenced heat.
It is a decieving tune,
Soft, soothing but sinister strain
Tieing and knotting the bands of clouds
and darkening the sky with its refrain.
Wrapped in notes of this exquisite night
Starlights whisper their quiet lament
Quivering and lingering on the air
As all around the world falls silent.