LITERATURE

september approaching

the end of august is upon us the sun sets over those cloud’s range without warning the night settles in it would be so easy to cry instead a new shirt eases the shakes, puts me at ease like the shape of mother at bedside at night.

september says au revoir to openings it shouts, “put that one down, you’re done son, you were done long ago, see the new issue’s been sitting right there all along, pick it up, you may be surprised what you’ll find. no, you haven’t learned that language yet but how do you learn if you don’t open up to new chapters, settling the old ones between their sheets?”

the sky opens up the sky comes down like a flurry of satellites comets and cannonballs, if you want you can try to catch one in your mouth – it’s all up to your coordination, boy you can’t blame the skies if it misses your gob and crashes down at your side.

but take a look in that crater, rather than sky-gaze for the next shower, take an explore before it fills to flooding that hole just may have bust through to another side you never would have thought of seeking. is everything upside down on the other side? or does it just make you question how right your side is? whatever the question it makes you ask, take a look in that hole.

inside out is how everything unfolds from the blanket you were born in, the bed you hid in. while you resisted rest you tossed and turned for yards only to find you spun a great big circle across the globe and back. here at the beginning but everything has happened since, if it wasn’t for the kind recognition of old friends, one more chalk line may have been forced across that bridge.

a season will change, but what is a season; it is an hour that knows heavier than a day; it is a day that has swam further than a year; it is a year that scoffs and coddles a lifetime; before those tears billow out from our children salute ancestors and the clocks they didn’t have. lie still in the white sky afternoon: timeless, inside your nimble fingers.

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