A Long Walk to Autumn
Dare I dream of roses, a night sky passing proud, Orion and all his friends standing, in heaven’s dark blue, not loud— Like children we remember, the home from where we were, the rocket then we boarded— steel forged and smoothed our nerve. The first kiss, the awkward bumble,
Poetry
We start with feet riding on a rubber floor, a moving carriage, scuffed by thousands of shoes, our reflections caught for a second in the glass. A middle-aged man stares at us, then sinks again as the train descends into the central tunnel; brushed steel and huddled shoulders carry
Poetry
Wir fahren, die Füsse auf dem Gummiboden, den tausend Schuhe blank und stumpf zugleich gerieben, im fahrenden Wagen, wo für einen Augenblick unsre Spiegelbilder an den Scheiben blieben. Ein Mann mittleren Alters sieht uns an, dann sinkt sein Blick zurück ins Ungewisse, während der Zug hinab in die Tunnel fährt;
A Long Walk to Autumn
Light floods the valleys by Pontresina, slowly overturning the shadows, driving them into scattered patches beneath the trees, into low ravines where the sun has yet to find them. The massive rock, a geological matrix, how you wear the fragile woods like a blanket woven in autumn colors, yellow, orange,
Poetry
The chorus of thundering cannons announcing the day, the grass on the hills and woods set in sway, Autumn like armies in red, orange and blue, charges directly and bursts into view— Colours and crispness, the air and the mist, along an old river that meanders and twists, so suited
Poetry
Something knocks. The darkness waits outside, a breakup like a spider spinning cobwebs in the corners, draping furniture like linen, like the falling apart of cobblestone streets, red brick mansions on Beacon Hill with no heirs, not even a gardener— the gentlemen have all booked flights overseas, young Spanish women