Cold October

cold October
the turn of the earth
its gentle bend
its kaleidoscope-spin obscurity
its hoary-edge shadows
whisper a name I’ve not heard
since a prior existence
I might walk– until I find it
caress its hip-curve edge
stepping over the familiar bones
of the lonesome wicked
I might dare a place
where I’ve not yet existed
a place long forgotten
I might disappear
into an electric-horizon hue
a sparkling glimmer, without name
its history, its future
its seethe, and hunger

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s