In September (poem)

 

In September the pole tilts away
from the sun receding in the distance
an empty space has negative curvature
the concavity of downhill gravity
is at the end of a refractor telescope
viewed from the wrong end
life fading away

  On the trail, the dei, gray feathers
strewn like warped snowflake clocks
the body of life is absent with the hawk
thermals somewhere Aztecs live
not here where God sets transparent images
like valleys and islands aircraft inhabit together
so colors run together like visions of tomorrow

  The smallest ripples on otherwise dead calm water
belying currents below and wind above
mountains and temperature changes
find it difficult to catch a breath
beyond the borders of a season
setting in the star growing smaller
from clouds in a forest dream

A seal risen above the noise
watches a boat approach
engine echoes in its realm
are noises for submersion ears
with cold, dark water and skies
reflecting the weight of something and nothing
vast content of melted glaciers flowing to night

  The blanket of life layers stony extrusions from the sea
humans too, push it aside with machines, drills and fire
even so rainwater flows
downhill with echoes of yesterday  In September the pole tilts away
from the sun receding in the distance
an empty space has negative curvature
the concavity of downhill gravity
is at the end of a refractor telescope
viewed from the wrong end
life fading away

  On the trail, the dei, gray feathers
strewn like warped snowflake clocks
the body of life is absent with the hawk
thermals somewhere Aztecs live
not here where God sets transparent images
like valleys and islands aircraft inhabit together
so colors run together like visions of tomorrow

  The smallest ripples on otherwise dead calm water
belying currents below and wind above
mountains and temperature changes
find it difficult to catch a breath
beyond the borders of a season
setting in the star growing smaller
from clouds in a forest dream

A seal risen above the noise
watches a boat approach
engine echoes in its realm
are noises for submersion ears
with cold, dark water and skies
reflecting the weight of something and nothing
vast content of melted glaciers flowing to night

  The blanket of life layers stony extrusions from the sea
humans too, push it aside with machines, drills and fire
even so rainwater flows
downhill with echoes of yesterday
and its fading leaves awaiting frosty reprieve
for continuity to break importunate convection
and try again next year.
and its fading leaves awaiting frosty reprieve
for continuity to break importunate convection
and try again next year.