November

It is autumn and my camouflage is dying

faster than the leaves

Unlike leaves I am back

on the stick, starting

this beginning

sequel unfolding

slowly, wind

& rain clearing, ambience

clearly shining

•

Lost in the necropolis

wind tears a branch

of something, a view

so far, perspective

in the raw

unexpectedly seen

the day is waiting

•

Another bright & grey day

gutter drips on single-sort bins

walking with a cane: nostalgia

of the dandy vs.

nostalgia for the dandy

in a season of death, air smells

like mulch, feeling good

about the time change

•

Deep in the heart of the brain

red sky turns black

empty window stares back

phone light in the dark

wireless hush

Lots of thoughts

a name (like)

a chain

Hours till December

sky stretches textured

blue curls go black

autumn is your last chance