Spiral Bound

emptiness lies in the wilderness
of green youth spent beneath brown trees,
watching leaves fall.

life must be superfluous then, untimely
crossings of the river.

one night the lamp fell out the moon,
this maple dystopia politely asked for light
to shed my skin of gauze and bandages.

it was something i had never beheld

this felling of leaves clinging
to pull a touch — it yearns to fly.

in autumn something happens like the choosing
of words to write, a rite to loosening ties;

lost in the chemical
splash of neon lights, books have been written
to describe the descent of a leaf.

all night leaves fell outside this bedside
yarn like an eternal stream of sentences;
a word too falls through so much space
before a page catches it, immortalizes it,

discards it.

[Original Post Date: Unknown]

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