of september

last night, towns dreamt of
mists and bridges and 
droplets of paint.

signs fell to the curb, rusted,
back when leaves were
things to step on
everything was gray

faded letters, then
the shining aluminum of
a smashed can of soda 
in the midst of a ruined building.

maybe this is a fragment 
of yesterday, tipped into

like dreamlands visited 
again and again
only to seem so familiar
each time;

and the skies turned

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

OK - I really love the verses, but please tell me why you named it "Of September"! Why not "Of December" or whatever else?

Post a Comment

in the wake of light, your words bring me more(please, do leave your fingerprints behind, so I may relish the image of our hands after you go.)