i am rare arrogance brilliantly
caked in sinuous batter inexorably fluid taught
grime, as the invited breath of salt pillars in my
nostrils. like god, like christ's woefully placarded
woody drizzled body the autumn is also every sign
of poesy and the imminent closure of flaming stodgy
existence
his season is waiting at the fore. ready to mass swiftly
white exuberance snowly at the behest of gray freckled heavens
long and talking paleness, in tiniest majority, flakes
flakes abounding footing the asphalt gardens and the naked
arbor flesh by the lakes. by the lakes
says some trees, "we are and justly so shall be, for a time longer than
thou who are more temporary than we. like grass, wither succulently
afore the mounding **** of time; eroding assuredly thy pink
sack of viscous organisms in unnoticeable obvious certainty."
and they said so, the trees, they said life
and i said
i said "axe"
