autumn is for apostles

the red bird has flown away
crushing the cattails and dying geraniums:
monarch glass and vinegar. 

times square sketch

men shout on street corners
the weight of gothic tragedy upon their frail frames
an apocalyptic burden
-or maybe a one day deal
at the comedy club just
around the corner

kitchen sketch

linen shifts for the silent roosters and rotting rosaries
a young woman- the maiden- stares and hides behind flax and wool
little child of the eastern sun puts down firetruck red
for purple mountains majesty
quiet…quiet…typetypetype
disjunct hearth around which no abundance of love prospers
dance the waltz of the hollow family
and teach us crowded solitude-
the tower