wrapped tonight in
autumnal luster
vulgar notions of
aging creep ever closer
soft urgent crossings
in the tide below
cars full of waves
wet the road with laughter
imagine the poet
that outruns danger
the glare of the laptop
a green-shaded lamp
books stacked with abandon
daring Sisyphus to climb

the cat’s cry distracts from
a weighty mantle
night bus below
dusts off an urge to travel
the cat pulls himself
into protective sleep
whatever his night fears
the mourning dove’s keep
on the back firescape
will return him to gentle
whatever his night fears
he’ll reject sentimental
laughter below
is it mad or cruel
the mantle slips from my
shoulders as usual
I write like the tide
it knows no refusal
no excuse
no regret
no answers
no muscle
whatever my fears

I reject sentimental

unwrapped tonight from
autumnal luster