Mise en Scène

Our love’s in autumn now, everything falling
and glowing like embers, amber expressions
as a sinking sun
or a heretic on the stake.
The naked Ash baring its veins
stiff with rigor mortis
and the hard ground ages
from nursery to cemetery.

It’s either destruction or lunacy,
what you want or what you should be –
keep knocking it down
or take up drinking with the happy people,
their eyes the same as a hostage
among corpses; is it my fault
I can’t ever choose,
maybe won’t choose in time.
What’s at stake:
You’re supine in the cabin;
the mice act at random above
and the rain piles on
outside the incandescent room,
keeping us from escaping
into the dormant night
as the faucet drips
and the pines lie motionless.

– Los Angeles, CA

Taken in Grass Valley, CA

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