The face of Autumn
flashed at me today –
as orange-ish and green-eyed
as an Irish play, but calmer
than the whiskey-riven
driven drama that might be:
sweet, in fact:
surrounded by a panorama
and a panoply of gently
jarring brownish reddish
green and yellow radiating lines –
beseeching, breaching,
reaching out like veins,
like vines – linking Autumn’s
geniality to unseen climes,
and climbs – inducing
these too-easy rhymes.
There the face was,
smiling like a glamorously
artificial Whitman:
old Walt drained of salt.
Pretty, though.
Autumn is icumen in –
August soon will go.
flashed at me today –
as orange-ish and green-eyed
as an Irish play, but calmer
than the whiskey-riven
driven drama that might be:
sweet, in fact:
surrounded by a panorama
and a panoply of gently
jarring brownish reddish
green and yellow radiating lines –
beseeching, breaching,
reaching out like veins,
like vines – linking Autumn’s
geniality to unseen climes,
and climbs – inducing
these too-easy rhymes.
There the face was,
smiling like a glamorously
artificial Whitman:
old Walt drained of salt.
Pretty, though.
Autumn is icumen in –
August soon will go.
.
Winter is icumen in,
ReplyDeleteLhude sing Goddamm,
Raineth drop and staineth slop,
And how the wind doth ramm!
Sing: Goddamm.
Skiddeth bus and sloppeth us,
An ague hath my ham.
Freezeth river, turneth liver,
Damm you; Sing: Goddamm.
Goddamm, Goddamm, 'tis why I am, Goddamm,
So 'gainst the winter's balm.
Sing goddamm, damm, sing goddamm,
Sing goddamm, sing goddamm, DAMM.