leaves – other animals

slow syrup in my sternum sweetens the lost leaves’ silver session

(First published in Under the Basho.)

Sonnet

with what time is left listen to
air conditioners drop drop drop
on the used tea bag of summer
while the waves of heat hit you on
uneven shards of sidewalk—though
later perhaps you’ll find some sweet
solitude and dream some drip could
bring a forgotten bloom or rare
herb back but the brink keeps creeping
and that green shade so far away—
so retreat to concrete above
the noise but not the heat and make
a quiet in which your fingers
if nothing else may sprout some leaves

silence in
the dark green
leaves brewed a
dozen times
still tasty
unlike the
resin like
the past I
need to clean
off my shoe
so why not
go into
the grey sky
grab cloudfulls
of what you
want and stay

and what do I know about scene setting the unruly leaves stir in the attic of dandruff the bundle of letters locked by a swallowed key

never with anything to show for the veins of leaves lost feathers of the long day and those thin bones from which perhaps flutes but now I have broken my own rule and as you see the birds die

To Cross the Sea

Bubbling on the stove warm nonsense on TV I misspell the important words of other people’s stories on the line nothing drying my legs sore the floor somewhat spotless what else to binge nothing stops this war

should have had iced coffee but trees start to stumble the hot earth becomes I tell myself breathe look at the leaves completely still August 30

at the end of the day whisky cicada hit send a cool breeze down that road in any direction you end up laughing

our secret obscured by a thousand legs under leaves

in leaves
before the storm
the sound of the storm

With my head on the pillow trying to read these lauded sonnets I’m off between rhymes to a bright cafe eating an omelet drinking wine I never drink wine

wind twists the long leaves that other color underneath

the effort, with red leaves finely pointed, rapid heart