Thursday, November 10, 2011

Toward Winter

Summer is the season of desperation,
riots and burning cities. Spring;
burgeoning life, mass movements, hope renewed across
barbed-wire frontiers and lines on maps.

The politics of autumn
are thrift and endurance, spinning cocoons
out of raveled sweaters, dead leaves gathered
into beds beside heating vents.
Clouds hover like full trays of plates, white on gray,
held overhead and poised to tip, spill rain over the edges
if the waiter's wrist should weaken.
Heavy with water in a season
of occupations. Like water, crowds
part, flow, absorb force,
pool at the bottom of a downturn--
weight is a form of power.

Fall is a season of seeds.
Fall is a season of collapses-- remember November, 1989
when the wall came down?
Water can weaken foundations,
leave walls poised to tip, spill over

Collection available! Knocking from Inside

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