erratic divisions
we talk in
kandinsky lines

knifered accents
tonguetip proof

of paths my thought
is jumping

only now
can you ride
truth nonplussed

as if it bit you
as if you plead
your ravages

or had you really
caught ripples afloat

plotted folds while
a red slice
of silence cuts

you're losses

a crouch compass
spun in on itself

a dashed dream
a not-image
of an age ago's
imagining

stuck indecision
& tiptoe nosetip
skirted edges

what selfish things
i must keep to myself

the leaves are falling,
falling as if from far off

how many miles is
a few months ago?
necessity looks
back often on

an autumn i
used to be

no longer chloro-
phylled i'd watch her
blow away in
reams of brown oak

& red maple
paper

all i want at work
whilst chained to this desk is a
nap & a wander