autumn, brown leaves erase the checkered map of humankind
& open a secret door.
the season when taro waves its broad leaves westward, tossing jokes
& the black-lettered flight of migratory birds grows hard to decipher.
the season when black rivers & brown rivers flow side by side, never mixing.
trees, lined up solemnly, let go of their heavy fruits with a splash.
the season when raindrops tap out sheet music on the power lines
only to erase it moments later—leaving us with the wind’s whistling tune.
at the end of the milky way, rising like a spine into the night,
crowns of brilliant stars begin to shimmer this season.
the season when you & i, guessing at our future from vivid tarot cards
step into the womb of dreams.
the season when we lift & lower eight trunks,
hearts drifting like balloons on an empty runway.
autumn, the season when i willingly offer my blood
for the final carnival of things about to vanish.
the season when cheerful sentences of reverie blow tiny, tender kisses,
yet can never be held in my arms.