October #6

Since when have I had this current inside of me?
Before there has been the excruciating birth,
the babies hastily forged, forcibly pulled,
screaming and crying,
from out my bloody brain,
into type and life and legibility.
But now with this season and this time,
an inspiration has moved me to fertility,
wondrous, productive, endless fertility,
the kind where I have so many idea that
I actually can afford to forget some -
and do,
though I wish it not and regret it much.
But there are too many infants in me crying for atteniotn,
and one or two must always fall behind.

October #5

I love this month.
I love what it means.
I love the feeling tha
as soon as this month starts,
the air will be crisper,
the apples riper,
the pumpkins oranger,
life a little more surreal.
I love this month
because fairies and goblins,
mushroom rings and red capped men
are more alive for me now
than at any other time.
I love this month because of possibility,
about wild dreams,
about nightmares.
Because I want to be one with the night sometimes,
and this month lets me.

October #3

Give me autumn,
she cried,
give me autumn or I will die.

Who did she think she was,
anyway, Patrick Henry?

It's true the fall casts a special air,
makes sunsets more poignant,
underlines our mortality,
livens up our life
as the cycle of celebrations begin.
In February we will fall again,
laughing,
tumbling to our seats trying to catch our breath,
as the swirl of holidays finally passes us by.

What good times! we will exclaim.
Never will we have known
company friendlier,
champagne better,
memories sweeter,
mistletoe and egg nog more intoxicating.
Then we wil sigh and pluck our clothes
and ponder how long
til next fall.

October #2

the leaves fall down
covering dawn with russet colors,
the leaves fall down,
protecting the earth like patient mothers.
the leaves fall down,
and mere humans watch and whisper,
but the leaves fall down
with no thought of mortal trifles.

October #1

Do not I owe some tithe of poems
to be sung and celebrated this day?
Am I not responsible for some joy
some expression, some rhymed lay?

The leaves watch me as they wither,
and the acorns, pumpkins, too
whispering me secrets of coming winter
And must I not follow through?

I have a debt, but not a burden,
a requirement of words,
a message of thanks for Nature's ken,
that should ring forth like fighting swords.

September #18

the days begin to drag together
as I wait for sad-autumn-fall
leaves colored limply dripping
the cold prewinterrain has bludgeoned them
into patheric mobs.
oh fall!
how i love thee
with your biting cold,
bitter, pathertic emotions
and tenderly melancholy
trees, stripped of protection.
Oh fall -
I love thee.