the wet leaves fall

---------

The wet leaves fall,
---------recalling the green summer
---------of possibilities unplanned,
now forgotten,
not having ripened
---------to even the translucent
flesh of dreams.
----------
I cut the moist air
with dry breath,
---------choking on the fears
---------that the night past
has bequeathed me,
---------
I, a man who longs for nothing
more than the empty pockets
---------of a pauper,
---------
who once carried a weight
no heavier than the smiles
---------of those who passed.
---------
This inheritance,
unwanted, impossible
------------------to free
from my thoughts,
litters the morning
leaving a blank stare
---------that spoils the gray
sky that in its imperfection
promises a giving over
to simpler things.
---------
Motion, rapid and indirect.
The consuming whisper vibrates
---------in the moment of irregularities.
---------
In this moment,
seldom acknowledged,
impossible to capture,
the vitality of summer’s
---------unformed desires
take shape beneath
---------elongated shadows.
---------
In this moment
flesh takes form,
blood rushes forth,
the body becomes
---------luminous
as tears of fulfillment
are tasted on the lips.
----------
As quickly as it comes,
that which never was
---------ceases to be
---------even a dream
---------of possibility,
and is consumed in the shadow
---------of flickering whimsy.
-----------
Stillness betrays.
-----------
I did not come here to mourn.
There is nothing to mourn.
Nothing was born in the long
---------summer past,
nothing more than a vague
inclination that slipped away
in a memory shorter
than the approaching winter days.