Thursday, August 21, 2014



No no no I say it emphatically to the pumpkin beer
in mid-August appearing in the grocery store
It isn’t fall yet but it will be If the calendar
could just hold still There are those of us
trying to take its picture but all we get is a blur
It seems strange that August 1 2014 has already
ended Seven of the months have toppled over
We accept this but on delay Instead of feeling
one age or another we start to memorize the year
we were born We remember a number and sing it
inside our face Accidentally we have slipped
a past season in with the current one On occasion
it has been December for half a year On occasion
we have wanted the death of leaves back
in summer Beneath the palm trees a root cellar
awaits Screw the hourglass No wait unscrew it
and take a swig

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