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

God!

Recent Posts

The thought process, Worn like a Wampanoag belt, Felt stiff, at times, and, at times, Mighty proud– what A thing ‘a beauty. What, it’s...

A young bird found out an Old bird and said, excitedly, “Old bird, did you realize that the Sky we sail is not empty but Full? Did you...

I could not be Otherwise if I walked To the furthest wharf And threw myself in To where the soft Surround of painted dusk Evinces a...