Search

Gold

golden copper leaves

scuttle round our feet


enter, enter

this vault of fall

walk with me down

its glittering hall


its buttresses are blustering

dead, rich trees flying

blossoming with that wealth

of the curious street-side poet—


around you both flock

pages and pages of little black notes

just some arpeggios

that a student dropped


but by God! they have become a

stream in our autumnal storm

along that golden clutter

copper fluttering rakishly


by

God!

Recent Posts

See All

damascus

I haven’t asked him for his number because now I am known, now the I-I-I am afraid, now I am up there on the raggedy cross with Christ: no longer unimaginable (so a little breathless), no number, no d

a better question

In the end, I suppose the better question is: how does the ocean feel about us?

FOLLOW ME

I emerged from my door and carried into my present moment the quivering skeleton of a whom this poem is for, a what is trying to be accomplished. We are the escape artists. We point the way out. We pa

+1 (202) 384-5561

  • Visit my Facebook page!
  • Visit my Instagram

©2017 by The Kilele Project. Proudly created with Wix.com