rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,

Autumn Wood

Bright afternoon dons the gray shroud of evening, but night casts it aside to run naked, its bareness unseen in darkness. The arching sky is pinned in place by stars. A bird, its sleep disturbed by my passage, rustles a bush. Colder and colder, the breeze rises. I hear dead leaves scrape the pavement, dying leaves brush one another, filling the night with clicks. Some of the pines whisper, some of the pines moan, some of the pines wail.

Belated Sunday Verse

Coleman Valley Road

by Gerald Stern

This is where I had my sheep vision,
in the brown grass, under the stars.
I sat there shivering, fumbling with my paper,
losing tobacco. I was a spark at the most,
hanging on to my glasses, trying to hide
from the wind. This is how I bent

my head between my knees, the channels and veins
pumping wildly, one leg freezing, one leg
on fire. That is the saxophone
and those are the cymbals; when it gets up here
the roar of the waves is only a humming, a movement
back and forth, some sloshing we get used to.

That is my cello music and those are my headlights
making tunnels in the grass; those are
the clouds going down and those are the cliffs going out.
I am reaching up. I think I have
a carp's face, I have a round nose
and a large red eye and a ragged white mustache.

The strings are stretched across the sky; one note
is almost endless—pitiless I'd say—
except for the slight sagging; one note is
like a voice, it almost has words, it sings
and sighs, it cracks with desire, it sobs with fatigue.
It is the loudest sound of all. A shrieking.


  • Reset Sixteen, Day Forty-Three

    Tuesday, which was mostly sunny, was not unpleasant, and I started in on my newly acquired groceries. It was nice to have orange juice again, and…

  • Reset Sixteen, Day Forty-Two

    Grocery shopping got done Monday, and even though I didn't do it myself I ended up as exhausted as though I had. The exhaustion hit around nine…

  • Reset Sixteen, Day Forty-One

    Sunday was so balmy that I had the windows open and the fan on for about three afternoon hours. I'd have done it earlier, but I didn't wake up until…

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.