Freitag, 9. Mai 2008, 15:24

Old Leaves
by Kevin Peckham

Old leaves on the sidewalk
Whisper as the wind steals them away
Still here but they're trying to be forgotten
It's warmer than it should be today
Old leaves of tobacco
Dried and scented
Burn cool and low
Old leaves in hot water
Spitting out vapor
Swallow them whole

There must be a new leaf
In this old goldengrove
Speak the shape, hear the feeling
Pots and pans above the stove

Will ghosts come back to hear me reading
From the wilderness of stars
As I dream in purple notebooks
The sound and shape of how things are
Adrift in worlds of wanwood leafmeal
So are the things of man
We've gotten used to such sights colder
It gets hard to understand

There must be a new leaf
In this old goldengrove
Speak the shape, hear the feeling
Pots and pans above the stove