Fall love ebbs and lovers return home to winter
surf flat rushing frothing foam recedes diminished
bubbly dolphins dive for dark sandy bottoms
we walk through gnarly tide pools bare barnacles
erupt across grotesque faces of ancient basalt hay
mounds covered with bluegrass and blackberry
below seacliff meadows seastars and fat green
sea anemones and great creatures sealions
and seals puffins and oystercatchers bright
orange-red long thin beaks breaking muscles
open overview here filled with salt and spray.
The cold comes down from the north blows
inside out squirts Poseidon pisses across
the pure cliffs driving down a tiny south
sun now the winter of our simple desires
harvest leftovers frozen our autumn awes
prayers of gratitude and sad recognition
summer satisfactions spring blossomed
hopes all fall down and hunkered down
in an autumn of changing times fears
attempts to control nature fell failed
wristwatches wasted where we now go.
August of our agues fall of our days
night comes a dark ship of told tales
our doctors are not the gods we wish
for but like the ancient gods they make
mistakes hang out with humans create
want miss appointments leave us
naked in cold rooms under glaring
false light where we wait promises
unfulfilled and we recall patience
the wealthiest of all the virtues
waiting out season ail expectations.
Oh Lord please don’t must under
stand us thankful for our lives
fearful of returning to non-being
so nice the gold heaven reward
where punctuation is perfect
and there are no cotton fields
no salt mines no automobiles
we tango through the night
which is also day in Barcelona
nights and Hollywood evenings
and festivals in faraway places.
Our love grows no shortages
of humid night streets filled
with strings of lights blocking
the moon the stars in Cairo
Rio Bagdad Los Angeles Paris
no stars in heaven no moons
no clouds heaven is outside
the universe the other side
no clowns no poets no sound
no sad faces your love grand
estoppel of all love forgotten.
In fall falling we long for folk song
foot tap slap of bucket string bass
all you need is love times three
Father Son and Holy Ghost
the sorrowful mother who may
only watch given only love
lonely downcast face fallen
from grace woebegone night
after night blue dolorous
mourn full of futile love
at times like these end times.
The Coming of the Toads 