September

To the day! And yet all

The particulars add up

to what will disappear



Lifting a soft target

into the air just enough

to see that it isn't there



Early risers mourn

the end of sleep

and the beginning of dumb stuff



Miss a stop while

the ruby pen

bungles a crossword



Somewhere orchards rot

while the canticles of ecstasy

become a sanguine mop



Further than a fever

warmer than a body-

still I go to work


Forget the dodgy bits for a minute

and notice the sun

as you hyperventilate



Something just isn't right

about the day, what with its

compete determination and mine



Someday I'll walk away

and every time I do something

it will be the for last time