autumn is a town called boulder
where I was raised
dressed all in breathtaking yellow
when we brought my mother
home to sleep forever
under a delicate pink stone
honoring a former mayor
a citizen of past renown
autumn is poetry
coloring the last leaves
of summer green
like you are poetry
in 14 versions
of my escape
from the potentates
easy grasp
so powerful he can stay
inebriated all his waking hours
not realizing that
I was always poetry
in the motion of my body
when my blood quickened
someday I will live in a town
called poetry
in a place not quite of this earth
with somebody not bound
by a deadened mind
using the capacity
to feel ecstacy
in the bloods domain
killing death with life
with our last breath
--gerry
4 comments:
Awesome Poem Gerry!!
I must say that watching the leaves change colors is something that I really miss! I am glad that we have finally hooked up again.
Kelli
Wonderful to read, Ger. Love the imagery your words bring out.
Lovely writing Gerry.
Post a Comment