prolixfootle: (footleloop)
Inspired by an interesing drawing by [livejournal.com profile] baronmind...
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Jack-Straw Eyes )
prolixfootle: (footleloop)
The moon paints the breeze, with a quicksilver sheen,
while cicadas and crickets whisper magics unseen.

Velvet thick shadows cling with gloomiest might
to the corners and cracks of this lucent night.

Midsummer’s gone, now naught but a dream,
and winter awaits to claw in with a scream.

But for now, here tonight, all is peaceful and calm,
as we stop just to relish this early fall balm.
prolixfootle: (Default)
Crunch, shuffle
Shuffle, crunch
The leaves are falling
by the bunch!
A red-gold sea upon the ground
that churns and swirls all around
then slowly turns to crispy brown
and smells of summer shutting down

Ankle deep
Crinklesnap
They land and fill up
all the gaps!
The trees begin their yearly sleep
as leaves form piles that grow so deep,
and jumble up in endless heaps
that chatter, moan, then fly and creep.

Step-sweep
Cracklesnip
The wind cuts through them
Like a whip!
Enjoy the season while it’s here
Before old Winter sweeps it clear
And dunes of snow again appear
Autumn comes but once a year!
prolixfootle: (Default)
Written for the ever lovely [livejournal.com profile] givemethegun, to hopefully enjoy with invisible lattes...

Already posted on FB. Sorry if you’ve already see it there. )
prolixfootle: (Default)
A dream... )

Workdays

Dec. 19th, 2002 11:05 am
prolixfootle: (Default)
What is a day?
A string of twitchy hours
strung out,
a tribulation to stomach
as clock hands, static,
mark non-instants
in a continuous purgatory.
Waiting, waiting,
as bugs murmur
in corporation lingo.
Politicos clawing,
always upward,
crushing dutiful grubs
who toil in obscurity.
And still no conclusion in sight.
Toil, labor,
for naught (but a tiny salary)
no triumph, no worth,
no glory of spirit.
And still, and still,
until Psychosis alights
and acuity dims.
Or, most probably,
clocks catch pity,
unknown to you,
and carry on
marking daylight;
bugs adjourn
and workday purgatory
wraps up
and a fun/individual span,
scanty though it is,
starts.
What is a day to you?
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