edgar allen autumn blew in
on a fundamentlist breeze
the sea’s fist banging on the
pulpit of my shores I feel like
him raven beaked and sullen
a razored pendulum kisses my
thorax in swishing rythm as I
sit in my rancid room in Baltimore
surrounded by laudanum bottles
and sticky brandy glasses now
empty for I dreamed them so.
It’s fall and I just helped
fell an apple tree
it looked so gnarled and wise
I hated to see it go
making way for sun and
newer, straighter trees
to come to come
a raven roosted in that tree
and thought of Helen and Paris
and brave Achilles
come to carry her home
riding in the belly of his horse
the tree knew this as well
and even older things
trees are promises the earth makes
