October died today,
leaves crackled and promised me nothing
like antiques from warmer times
they worked themselves into wet concrete and
the gutters of cozy dwellings
October, he withered,
where everything lives, and gave us notice
for harder times and scented candles, and
freshly ground battle fields
October sprung today,
like unable bodied cicadas and
leather bound books, digital fires
and the sounds of flooding off to the distant west.
YOU ARE READING
ReAnimation: A Poetry Collection
PoetryThis is a collection of poems from my youth that were pretty edgy and poorly written. Here, I've updated, edited, and reinvented them so they are not just a pile of lost causes in my poetry archives.
