Digital Times in bed, 6am, hear the
Tufted titmouse twee, twee, twee by the window.
He lives in the attic above the bed
Flitting onto the Rose of Sharon
in early dawn. Leaves rustling, swirl wildly,
Scarlet, Gold, brown and Orange fall through Grey Light.
Leaves Luffing down, like a Sail, headed straight into
Wind, going nowhere, just luff upon luff.
We are In Irons, Head down and Fall off.
Reasoning knows magniloquence will be punished.
Severe reprimands administered to the winsome.
Rash coffee splash as I grab the Umbrella,
Carolina wren going dit and dit-dit–
Time now for my hand shoved deep into its pocket,
Heart held tightly in my closed mouth.
Ambiguous relations between words and deeds,
Leaves of brown swirling round erotic tales.
Willow swings and sways to a forlorn tune as
Lofty aspirations are bashed and mocked,
Suffocating in ironies, gutters
Clogged with dead…
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