Another year gone, leaving everywhere
its rich spiced residues: vines, leaves,the uneaten fruits crumbling damply
in the shadows, unmattering backfrom the particular island
of this summer, this NOW, that now is nowhereexcept underfoot, moldering
in that black subterranean castleof unobservable mysteries - roots and sealed seeds
and the wanderings of water. ThisI try to remember when time's measure
painfully chafes, for instance when autumnflares out at the last, boisterous and like us longing
to stay - how everything lives, shiftingfrom one bright vision to another, forever
in these momentary pastures.
