Autumn Blues

autumnblues12

My blood thinned by foghorns.

Chilled rain instead of cold beer

on the puddled patio.

Night reflections shimmering

on downtown streets

enter me with a shivering,

stuttering neon.

 

My skin, stretched by winds of change,

tightens into geometries

of angled cold and weak light.

My eyes struggle against sleep.

The season moves

with the languorous throb and angst

of autumn blues.

 

Are these the fallen glories

of the winded wings of trees?

or the ragged motley

of a jester at a wake?

I jump in leaves

and bury myself in their smell

as we enter dark.

 

 

painting and poem by Clinock (edited redux – 2014)

Autumn Blues.

autumnbluesSummer’s blood

thinned by foghorns

and chilling rain

turns tentative,

injecting veins

with a shivering

stuttering neon.

blues detail1Stretched by wind

skin is tightened

into geometries

of angled cold,

light weakens,

eyes struggle

against sleep.

blues detail2

The season moves

with the languorous

throb and angst

of Tchaikovsky

grinding October blues

through the smoky air

of burning leaves.

blues detail3

blues detail4

Are these the colours

of rusting memories

of a summer gone?

the falling glories

of the wings of trees?

or the ragged motley

of a jester at a wake?

 

painting and poem by clinock (edited redux)

Autumn Blues

autumn blues

Summer’s blood flows,

stuttering neon

through cooling veins.

Stretched and thinned

it angles the skin

in dripping chills of rain.

It slows

in tentative light

and the falling glory

of the wings

of trees,

and dressed

in the multicoloured

motley

of a jester at a wake

it pulses

with the languorous

throb and angst

of autumn blues.

 

painting and poem by clinock.