Location: St. Vincent & Grenadines

You were driving home in the dark on one glass-slippered heel, window sliced open and bathing in the snowliquor of the night air. We heard you singing, and couldn't bear to wake you.

02 November 2006

Fall Song.

Another year gone, leaving everywhere
its rich spiced residues: vines, leaves,

the uneaten fruits crumbling damply
in the shadows, unmattering back

from the particular island
of this summer, this NOW, that now is nowhere

except underfoot, moldering
in that black subterranean castle

of unobservable mysteries - roots and sealed seeds
and the wanderings of water. This

I try to remember when time's measure
painfully chafes, for instance when autumn

flares out at the last, boisterous and like us longing
to stay - how everything lives, shifting

from one bright vision to another, forever
in these momentary pastures.

Mary Oliver


Anonymous Frederika said...

It's a good poem, and all of the poems you post are good. But-- could you post more of your own poetry? Please please?

3:14 PM  
Blogger Felix Helix said...


I don't write much these days. I mean in general, not just poetry. I suppose that's why I've been reluctant to share much of my own, and also why I don't do poetry open mics anymore. (Not that I'm unwilling to, I just haven't made it a priority.) It feels awkward to bring up old work when I haven't made anything new, like I'm coasting or something.

I guess the solution is to A) get over it and B) start creating some new stuff.

In the meantime, sharing some older pieces will be fine. Give me something to post, anyhow.

9:01 PM  

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