Part I
Coming down from each tree limb
meeting the ground below.
We all well know
Autumn's cruel figure.
Each landscape sets another year.
I've spent years here,
and only now do I want the hotels,
and the cigar smoke to pour from my mouth-
like steam from the tea kettles back home.
I've smiled on your letters
from such an awful height.
I can't wait until tomorrow
to tell you how I feel tonight.
I've done too much in your absence.
END I
part II
I've found a way to sleep-
Shipwrecked.
Like a spent candle stick
peaceful in its brevity-
flawless in its separation.
O' how it comes.
How it goes.
...
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