early chill

outside the winter storm is pelting down

with ancient power recalling us to true

vision of our places so then we rue

both the larger anger and the lesser frown

each gout of pressure under which we drown

unheeded here withheld from public view

still grasping for some force that would renew

each broken heart and smile at each sad clown

tonight we’re promised snow that will not stick

to the warm ground and ice that will not chill

for any length of time the naked skin

yet winter ‘s taking only the first lick

at these soft hides there’s still much room for ill

since we are in a race the clock must win

abandon panic

sleep  hides in dimmest corners of the night

refusing to reach out and hold us dear

for far too long our fears and pains seem bright

like scars of whiteness injuring the sight

bringing so many distant horrors near

sleep hides in dimmest corners of the night

while on each eye some terror will alight

so waking mind can slowly shred and tear

for far too long our fears and pains seem bright

thought after thought revolves upon harsh blight

and inner rack we’re thorough-cooked by fear

sleeps hides in dimmest corners of the night

options seem few and hope reduced to slight

expecting that the dawn might bring cool air

for far too long our fears and pains seem bright

yet there are answers left to turn times right

repairing rest while giving breath to spare

sleep hides in dimmest corners of the night

for far too long our fears and pains seem bright

fallen angles

where fallen angles now define true space

in steady motion of my dull dead blood

the quantity of which threatens to flood

beyond proper confine without such grace

as is expected in these times of mud

where fallen angles now define true space

our acts come under limits we can trace

out of the silence through each heavy thud

of closing vision as hope turns to dud

where fallen angles now define true space

the human occupation

in places known lacking all restriction

we lift our heads and arms extend their reach

whilst all the silent learn to practice speech

as sterling critics take honour from fiction

with truth resulting from the hard conviction

that since no one will give what we beseech

making reality out of all they teach

we must become our own true benediction

this is a world where silence means dissent

from standard syllogisms of bright command

yet we are bound to  stay within the mesh

of human intercourse of what is meant

by these creations of the head and hand

that come together in the mortal flesh

autumnal passage

in mild november every tree seems red

these maples blazing with unhidden fires

in briefest glory as the day expires

while winter is to come with heavy tread

but not just yet and while clouds overhead

cluster like doom the birds sit on the wires

and do not worry the winds may be liars

while changing seasons don't occasion dread

meanwhile we wonder at the changing scene

at who will be our neighbours and how plain

the day shall be with no leaves on the lawn

but nothing matters while the grass is green

and we have shelter from the chilling rain

with guarantee of sleep until the dawn