The Autumn Sings Exhilaration
“Scarcely sad the autumn seems
Gently recurring” ~ Paul Verlaine, “La fuite est verdatre et rose,” Romances sans paroles
The autumn sings exhilaration through
Its own potential sadness. This time fall
Is focusing on frantic leaves and blue
Of sky so bright the season would forestall
All death, especially the death of love.
My man is here beside me in my bed,
Beside me as we write our lines above
The poetry and music from the head,
The poetry from marrow, semen, blood
And Northern Lights. My hand composes blond,
Pale, blue, and comet sounds. His stuff is thud
And butchery—and everything beyond.
..This autumn will be infamous and wild
…..In stanzas and our passions now reviled.