Aperture
a poem for November
Aperture
The skyline curls in
and darkness curls out
—the mountain
a doused
cinder.
I know November
when windows
think the season for me—
long sentences
to read the day by.
Rain blooms
concentric circles
beside a pile of leaves
and a cardboard box,
the logo worn off.
You always seem to tap into something I have no language for but notice, and feel, and experience, and then make the language so beautiful and precise that it can only be what it is, and I read your work and feel something inside of me smile at being seen. ❤️❤️❤️
..."a doused/cinder" Damn you, Joseph!