Saturday, September 20, 2014

How I Know It’s Fall Valentine

When I sit listening to the thud
of rotten pomegranates
hitting the ground I know
I should get out more
or suddenly realize
these days are metaphors
not leafy similes in disguise
or when I sit listening to the wind
with its summery regrets
one hundred kinds of apples
and not one worth paradise
(though they’re working on it
as we speak) a life with crunch
and juice and taste of rain
in spring and the earth’s ache

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