Monday, December 22, 2008

The Country Of No Leaves

Driving north into the country of no leaves talking. Suddenly tobacco fields become familiar, the valley fills with light. Are we my father now but years ago?

Eviction leaves cold between holes up crying. "Play," the last dog whimpers. Because the nights won't pass without drinking.

November trees between New York and a funeral, stars bright wherever one gazes. In Vermont where it snows. Staying up to write while the dog follows me down into hell.

Plane smoke, carrots, a bone about another. Expect miracles and suddenly . . . Bits of turtle on the highway and all I do is talk or laugh.

Old songs remind us to pass judgment. Reproachful eyes beneath withered apple tree limbs will see, probably. Ask if we will ever become rich?

Boiled cauliflower for lunch. Bob Dylan while the dog sleeps. Coffee for the newly married has a bitter flavor.

So sit, watch, and sing along! Watch the miles between us evaporate like tears!

No comments:

Post a Comment