Spare no lament for the maple leaves
     that hail their impending fall
with blazing gold and scarlet concerts
     bright as Christmas brass in marble halls.

How bold their radiant hymns resound -
     mute to the sweatered ones below
whose treble scraping rakes -
     raise smoldering pyres of the fallen.

Steamy plumes from cocoa mugs
     blend with burning oak and maple wisps
as rakers chant their own sweet airs,
     “The colors surprised this year,
didn’t think we’d had the rain.”

So spare no lament for the maple leaves
     whose jubilant anthems,
raised beneath the harvest moon,
     herald their fall with rainbow alleluias.

*November, 2006

torn from this mortal world
many poor souls

detached from all
and loving all

the hermit freely sings
alleluias

"I was once alive!'
a dead man cries at the heavens;
raising fist with impatient gestures.
The clutching of the fingers,
      the breaking of the bones.
The heavens open up
      to the evil we do.
Bloodshed from wars,
      bloodshed from illnesses.
The Blood of Christ given
      and
       yet
        disregarded
"I know only living!",
the solitary man demands.
But the circle of life
      has been drawn.
The fate of certainty
      proclaimed and published.
Alleluias and amens
      flock like napkins
       folded into place.
Winds scour the sky for axioms
as weeping Mary floats her prayers
through vibrant songs of heavenly protection
Be still hurting flesh.
      The pain shall pass,
       the misery will vanish.
"I once was alive!"
he moans as his skin
explodes in tumours.
Victim to stigmata dreams
     and
      a
       hearse
        travelling
         in
          purposeful
           direction.

Kensington Avenue

With Leonard gone, who can wear a fedora?

A pilgrimage away from Kensington
Lovers and mountains and islands and words
Questions flung far into the universe
Returned as Alleluias angelic

Or as Comments Constant in lonely rooms
Where Marianne in memories spoke to him
Sometimes upon a wire from otherness
Finishing words about the avenue

Now home from mountains and islands and song -
Perhaps one answer was here all along

I tune to heaven of joy
I enjoy joy of heaven
In glory unlimited
In grace eternal
Rain of  power
Powering me
To immortal Power
To immortal Glory.

Alleluias in thunders
Roaring glory
In immortality
In rapids cataracts
Falling in gold
In immortal Glory.

She was never one to worry
About the rain—
Rather softening her heart
To a hundred lilies
Seemed more worth her while.

Somber alleluias echo
From the garden gates
Offering peace and
Honest praise

Unaccompanied by doubt,
We whisper to the wind,
Let me be like the lilies
—unrivaled by the rain.

Alleluia. Alleluia. Alleluia.

a.k.