rain (leading into winter

it should be snowing, but water melts
& leaves tiny rivers along the edge,
small toes white from cold & breath
raw from last night dance in puddles,
two leave wait their turn while crows
holler at one another, but it’s hard to
understand, thoughts of winter begin,
question, does it begin at an onset,
no sense in a mark, something of a
missed punctuation, but as it falls,
snow seems so far away, a thought,
short, but point, waiting, maybe in time,
a slow build up, half-frozen as morning
awakes over dark streets


fall (the scent of summer

there is dust on the typewriter,
scattered letters & no coherent
words, the dog lays a little to the
left & outside the sun speaks to
fallen leaves, to say as much
as a decent goodbye, frost &
bugs that live in the bark of
a half fallen tree cling to the last
scent of summer, a spider crawls
down the street on two legs & as
the rain begins to fall, windows
leave marks on the floor & a carton
of milk stands two weeks old

to be continued: XXVII – (meadow

each, the slope
of a hill, horns
& the smell of wind,
dog in the morning,
pass by, collect
samples of, & birds,
it isn’t long, like
they say, leaves to
follow, branches of
solitude, play on grass,
a page a turn,
sleep & blue skies,
the bugs don’t care,
cough with the
stick, fold, stand
& walk towards, roll
with, but go