sometimes it’s so much more rewarding
to invoke: the tale of a 1000 words
in the desired medium
than turn to imagism and write a revolving door,
waggling tail of a poodle haiku;
it’s the raw scented decay that drives me crazy...
decay is more potent than budding...
you can say much about colour and spring...
but autumn is all about the scents
and wasted pumpkins not used for soups
but for candle props left without ceiling attachment.