Tales About Directions of Birds

Autumn is as broken as a child’s souvenir, as red as the thought of harvest gravy …

Impressionist cellulose blankets make one of sidewalk, street and grass

King’s carpet of deciduate petals, delicate as tomorrow
under my feet, wild as infinity and woodsmoke

Birds married out of sight, on the mountains of the Tennessee border
their walk to work like skating on a donut

Autumn is as broken as a child’s souvenir
as red as the thought of harvest gravy
as unseen as smells of a lady’s perfume from around a brick wall corner
as unruly as a banana peel
as caramel colored as a peanut butter pretzel
as windy as an asshole at a party
as able to pull summer’s card as summer is able to pull spring’s
as clueless about the directions of birds as a silly cat
watching from the window
of a winter’s day
a few miles down the road

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