Monday, October 3, 2011

September Becomes A Ghost / new poems 2011

The Crooked Path (Mortar Of Footprints)

The fallen leaves
Surrounding my years, miles,
mortar of footprints
Smolder from the spark
My flint heels left behind,
The smoke irritating
A thousand eyes
Of those who cannot see
Beyond the horizon
Of their own hesitant steps
Into the uncertain future,
Wanting instead to walk it back
To a time when
Limbs were still weighted
By the foliage of a decade's falls
Now scattering with the wind
To cover the crooked path
I have cut through a wilderness
Where memories only hinder progress.

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