On the edge of autumn,
I see the sky and trees ablaze with color.
I can still smell
the smoldering fires of fierce youth,
when the landscape of my heart was wild,
a wilderness that wouldn't be tamed.
But I'm afraid
old age has quenched my thirst for adventure.
Even my poems have lost their teeth.
Gone are my scabbed-up knees
and swords made of sticks.
No beautiful maidens to rescue;
just constipation to overcome
as I listen to the ticking
of the clock,
beating louder as evening draws near.
May 11
May 11, 2026 at 3:34 PM UTC
On the edge of autumn,
I see the sky and trees ablaze with color.
I can still smell
the smoldering fires of fierce youth,
when the landscape of my heart was wild,
a wilderness that wouldn't be tamed.
But I'm afraid
old age has quenched my thirst for adventure.
Even my poems have lost their teeth.
Gone are my scabbed-up knees
and swords made of sticks.
No beautiful maidens to rescue;
just constipation to overcome
as I listen to the ticking
of the clock,
beating louder as evening draws near.
Just posted a new long-form poetry reading on my YouTube channel featuring selections from Aluminum Cowboys, one piece from Sleep Always Calls, and a sneak peek from my upcoming book Searching for Nod, coming this November.
A simple at-home reading—just the work and the page.
Watch here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CvZAR6uno3A
Books available on Amazon:
https://www.amazon.com/stores/Thomas-W.-Case/author/B0CL2RKDGX?_encoding=UTF8&pd_rd_w=xsU45&content
Thanks for reading and listening.
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