Little Drops of Poetry

Bits and clips of insight for the digital age

February 8, 2012 Poetry

“Autumn in the country I remember”

how the wood waded like a cobbled road
Water in the branches, the red leaves
stubborn as thorns, holding
Holding the bones in my fingers wrapped around the crevices in fractions in decimals in my palm lines we crawl
Through pines and berries
Eating our discontent through the wind
It blossoms, budding its way from nerves to spines
to angles to silhouettes to wheels
plugging away at fists of gravel
we can only dig further into the marsh
Of spaghetti squash macaroni and cheese chilli dogs until the kids forget how to digest only ingest never process
Their bulemic ways are biting through the wisdom tooth of their own obesity. Anorexic are their nails.
Black are their gums, sorry our names
which hold us back, which fill our offices
with spirits to distract us
Glass glints glitter into your pores and makes you. Shine on the roofs our the browned leaves that filter our hearts with the hour of our discontent
with the winter that falls out of trees
onto our windshilds while we are still
sweating autumn
in the country I remember.

by Eric Raanan Fischman, June Lucarotti and Javier Laurel
Based on a line by Trumbull Stickney

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