By Peter Halstead

The limbs that dart ad hominem
From terrible blue skies
Bury all the summer with them
As leaf by leaf it dies,

Adding each of us like tree rings
To the stories in the cliffs
(Hidden engineerings
Of amnesia’s rotting gifts);

Like watch springs beating seconds
As whole galaxies drive by,
The snare of falling history beckons
With the lifeline of a fly:

The craters of the spirit flood
Through the forests of our blood
And by effacing this year’s pains
The underlying future rains.

Tippet Alley
September 28th, 2007

Tail N621QS
Via Estrada
September 30th and October 5th, 2007