A Line Through October

A Line Through October 



i.

september gone
in gray rain slash,
gutters sift
fallen color, but how 

to pronounce 
October
when streets seethe
sepia, echo summer 




ii.

what binds the day
to belief, what binds 
belief to perception, 
at the seam 

between seasons 
when words blur, phrases 
warp, the sentence
surrounding us dissolves



iii.

slant October light 
supplants the itch
to think anything 
beyond light

and what light 
laves 
to name
and measure




iv.

at the threshold 
of the present
this shadow 
is the mind’s shadow

shielding a noun 
in the mulch, half-
buried, decayed
beyond a name



v.

dawn signals 
the language
a world wakes within—
a capillary bloom

of wet, red leaves
imprinting haze 
too thin 
to be fog



vi.

the room 
sheds the room
as dusk sweeps 
through, a leaf-

spiked shadow 
stretched from 
floor 
to ceiling



vii.

candles voice 
evening, these
shadows phrased
across the wall,

this exile, 
in the cell where 
I breathe 
myself blank



viii.

the synesthesia 
of the season,
an off-kilter walk 
through the Shower

of Stain, vision
enveloped 
as sound
a slow shattering inward



ix.

late bees needle 
late flowers 
hovering over a sidewalk 
cracked into hieroglyphs

these ribboned 
bee shadows
decipher 
as a kind of silence 



x.

other echoes inhabit 
the alley, summer’s alley,
enclosed now by October’s
gloaming, the bled sky

gaping above
lopsided sheds
sheathed in yellow 
hollowing orange