these delicate bones               these smooth stones
of morning                              of last light

wait wet                                   vesper edged
in the grass fragile                 and meshed

a framework                           cooling and
quick brittled                          tipping

to break                                    into the soft
if not handled                         shrapnel

with care                                 of stars

the moon is a cloud




some                                     some
are rising                              are complex
and familiar                        concrete grey
white tipping                      with a heat and heaviness
off the top                            a dizzying effect
darkening briefly               that spits light and sound
to pour specificity              in an ever shifting distance





in the pale blue sky

off the cliffs
of enoshima

three hawks hunt
in circles

their shadows
shiver the pine trees

hundreds
of dragonflies

ebb
and flow

as autumn palliates
its colors

with necessary care
a literacy

of leaves weaving
above

and beyond
perfect the palette

of changing light
last night

as the sky darkened
before the rain

before the world
fell silent

my mother
has moved

from october
to november

to the same rooms
the same furniture

and the same framed photos
to the same plates

and glasses
the same clipped light

and the same taunting shadows

my mother
has moved

from october to november
where now

she sits waiting
to move closer

to december

here    hear
is (w) here

          the       the
          ear       ear
          th m    th m
          ove      ove
          s

           here    hear
is (w) here

          the       the
          cro       cro
          w&c    w&c
          ica        ica
          d ca     d ca
          all        all

           here    hear
is (w) here

           the      the
           ski       ski
           es        es
           kis       kis
           s co     s co
           lli        lli
           de       de

crisp lisps
lift leaves

brown down
the street

a tree
unsleeves

winter’s win
‘tis autumn’s defeat

cold collects
the warmth of breath

and kicks free
the final leaves

winter takes
what winter wants

and we watch
how autumn grieves