Poem: September Strange

the moon fell into the briar bush
this september strange
as i climbed up to high heaven
with a rope made of rain
to watch the immobile melancholy
unfold in the dreams of gentle whispers

i greet september strange with tracing lips
trying to string words for her yellow-red leaves
that fall like tragic heroes with heavy hearts
whose stories are told with lines of black and white
on the wet streets that scream autumn

september strange has rustic eyes,
filled with low echoes
that bounce between earth’s prison walls.
she sets me to sleep
with that silent hum
–the wheezing wind that howls along her corridors

all roads are now set forward
all roads lead to rome
there’s potholes
(indirection),
no answers set in stone

so why should i head forward
when all the mysteries i hold dear
are bare, right behind me
layered in emptiness
and shrouded by the breeze

i will take this hue of sepia
stand still in this rain
and be forever gazing back
at september strange

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