continuing my series of just parking my big white butt outside and looking at the small window of the world I can see here in new jersey suburbia.  I am a little behind so I am posting two posts that represent two weeks, I am posting tonight’s first (and last week’s just under) because if feels more vital to me, I am trying to carve out the time to post on time, in my head I have a plan but the world seems to disagree with me… often, but I will endeavor to keep doing this project, sort of like the “picture a day” thing people do online, it is revealing, I hope this experiment turns out worth it, if not, well, then it doesn’t… but I am certainly more optimist than not so, with that all said…

9.16.18 (porch series)

this is one of those fall nights

where everything seems the way described in books

the temperature has fallen into comfort

into just cool enough

especially on the back of the memory of an angry blistering summer

(but that even now seems so faraway

weeks wipe memories faster than time can build candles on a cake);

leaves have two lives now

clinging to branches or littering the floor

all from verdant green move to vivid spectrum now

swatches of the dead adorn

but no rebirth can occur without the purge, I know,

this same hour in which I write, is much later now

the ancients association of death with night

the night that approaches and slowly suffocates the daylight

day by day swallowed night by night longer into winter, a descent,

all life is strangled to slumber

each phase of the passing days

subtracts a piece of the orchestra

summer full bloom is certainly a symphony

(or cacophony for some)

but now the year moves to loom on ever still

the lights burn out from the peak fire of life

leaves fall, insects lose their songs

the rain will become hard blocks

but – I should remain in now

not dwell on such dire things

even if I might be quite used to them

why faster should I wish their arrival

for now – enjoy, this nearly flawless night

something of which I might wish I could capture

in a moving minute moment picture

wrapped up in ball of cloth, stuffed in my pocket,

so I might take it out and wrap around

to block out

the whatever “importance” is swirling about,

and come back, to now

sitting here under the hazy crescent moon

drawing deep breaths

exhaling –

to become a component of this night

under the hazy tender glow

of a crescent moon.

9.10.2018 (porch series)

in an instant, seemingly

the summer has given way

already the silent stalk of winter

inhabits the shadows

the rain, once soothing, once relief

now speaks of longer nights

and trades in the rumors of the coming cold

fall it seems is just a balance beam

between, walking along artfully to an inevitable end

the cycle which began will but start again

as is all things

but this is a different matter

to try and capture the unfolding

to observe the obvious march

towards winter’s holding

do I delight? or mourn?

but as yet I know reborn

but there must be, that firstlast kiss of death –

the step that must come before the stairs

before we can resurrect.

Music… dramatic, with classical instruments and modern ones… you might notice patterns, I might call them taste…

Apocalyptica featuring Lacey – “Broken Pieces”