Showing posts from October, 2014

Poetry Wednesday: Autumn Returns

Autumn Returns A day in mourning falls from the bells like a trembling cloth of vague life, it's a color, a dream of cherries sunk into the earth, it's a tail of smoke that arrives without rest to change the color of the water and the kisses. I don't know if you understand me: When night         approaches from the heights, when the solitary poet at the window hears the steed of autumn running and the leaves of trampled fear rustling in his arteries, there is something over the sky, like the tongue of thick oxen, something in the doubt of the sky and         the atmosphere. Things return to their place: the indispensable lawyer, hands, oil, the bottles, all the signs of life: beds, above all, are full of bloody liquid, people deposit their confidences in sordid ears, assassins descend stairs, but it's not that, it's the old gallop, the horse of old autumn who trembles and endures. The horse of old autumn has a red beard and the foam