Autumn cycle

Rake it home and

Compost it out the

Back without thinking

Of your feet and

The mess they’re

Making in the hall,

It can be cleaned

Later, when the leaves

Are rotting and re-

Cycling through the cool

Guts of worms, beetles

And other vaguer traces

Of evolution.

Day Cycle

 

Waking up in a world

Of pictures hung

In a line one by

One along the

Four walls you call you.

In

The thick smell of

Happiness or

Thin, bad dream

 Aftertaste

Make quick

Connections

Between the

Eyes, charging

Up with Day

After Night’s

Power-save.

Take no direction

From the subconscious,

Lurch into Now,

From one real-life

Object to another:

Cup of water,

Alarm-clock phone,

Hair band;

Landmarks

Passed before the

Shower door is closed.

Get out

And back in

Touch with the

Floor, the feet,

The clothes that

Keep the outside

Out and inside in.

After work,

Take clothes off again,

Peal

Away the feelings

They’ve seived through

And reveal the

Skin they’ve protected

From looks forked with words.

Sink down in the

Soft down that

Grows under

Day,

Diffuse it all

Away and fall

Asleep, let Sun’s

Warm wake fill

All your rooms.