Polished
coffin
Autumn rain,
earth, and lilies
The dead do
not mind
(Simultaneously
published at POETS The Original)
Even from
afar
Lights of
the oil cracking firm
No fairy
palace
Beneath the
palm trees
Some light
bulbs swaying in wind
But not our
shadows
One, two,
three, four, five
Six, seven,
eight, nine, ten, e-
Leven,
twelve, thirteen
New
direction sign
Multi
coloured and glossy
No sign of
the way
From the
north
Cries of
approaching cranes
Then passing
Fog
condensing
On the
spider’s net
Abandoned
Crescent
sickle just gone
Autumn’s
first dry and cold night
Milky Way
gazing
Crickets are
gone
But the tree
has no need
To stop
chirping
Just three
apples left
Tree
shedding yellow leaves
Garden
chairs still out
.
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