SuperNova Afterglow: End Of Days

It’s The New Season…Noting…

Noting…
It’s a new season with new members who’ll change like the leaves
Fully mature
While I hang near the end of her long arm
Nearer to the shade than sun
         They’ll surpass me within a year or two
In recognition
That it’s taken great time, all the photosyntheses,
All the energy suckled
From the near brittle end
         That for brief years surged,
Now bypasses
For the new succulents,
         Clustered and cloistered to her giving spaces
                   Rising up where I
Near the the street, resistant
To sag
Or droop
In full view of their twirl
         The few that gather and swirl          eddy about
In the great, playful chase.


It’s good here, in quiet,
Fully reflecting on a sunset of gases
That cloud a glowing horizon. Or,
I could just fall and wait on the invisible forces
(That could again) take me on the mysterious, amusement ride
To (hopeful?) destiny, loosing free will
To slot and sort myself in morning’s hydrant shimmer —
Gleam, in a great void, then
Warp like origami, brittle
To a child’s tender touch.

I forget the cyclical nature as bottom feeder who
Dreamed himself a feather too good
For the plumage that ejected him.
Silly leaf.


9.22.23
Wind tousles tops so much, hard to visualize each, or if the same, as breezes make them whistle in those protracted shoots shapeshifting as time on bark…or something…

Jeff Winger: (paraphrasingly) Here. I wrote this. I kinda nailed it. You can use it, or whatever.

Modesty deflects the narcissism as platitude for recognition, when it shouldn’t have to be that hard to be acknowledged before sudden, maddening epiphany before potential mental upheaval. Go loose?

There are greater forces at play that refuse to reveal themself.

Aaannnyyywaaayy, better get the rake ready.

No bigs, Lates.