Friday, 9 November 2012

nov 9

I have only my eyes to etch this emptying tree
black against the blue
holding its last leafbirds
a week ago I streamed
 and now over this running puddle a red unexpected dragonfly
water piles around the roots of woods as if it is ground
flat flood of reflection
and who has just told me less is more
and yet
and yet
it is all more
my bootlace has undone and I am walking with a strange stride
wanting to keep moving like the leaves running along the road
not stop to repair
I have a loose foot
a leaf dropped on my writing hand but fell away
I mouth my regret aaah
I wasn't even looking for one
though I liked the good luck
these falling leaves olden days promises
a raft of paper leaves make huge white noise
I could fall to the sun- reflected stream
let go, thirty feet of falling
and then cold, bruises, scratches
a frozen shriek
I need my witness
the reddest leaf
emeralded with depth
I want to take it home and love it
place it on display
practice obeiance
my eyes go straight to pen
glad the beheaded deer is gone
the wire line still cuts into the young oak it was hung on
and the carcass has disappeared
as I walked the small plane overhead circled
where I circled a week ago
learning to fly is a pull to air
a fatal wish for the unboundaried
unfettered freedom
the big view
the element I fly in
I am that bundle of balloons filled with helium
ready to go
and these nearly tied boots hold me down
but its getting looser
and I don't know what it means
its not going through the door
its not thresholding
its almost dissolving
a death into elemental being
I am weathering myself
to hold weather
to be weather
to flow weather

its too bright
yet soggy feet
I tie up the shoelace
it undoes
my red leaf is in the shade
on the way back
as I approach home
my other boot unlaces
I could step out of it right now
and be socked