Tuesday, September 4, 2012


It has always been alluring
like a blank page.
Like the new pens and pencils
on the first day of school,
the glossy smell of the unknown
in the still unopened books.
And it has always been at one
with autumn.
A paradox in a natural way
to begin when the season’s sun sets
with , in the gaze, the bright reds
of the end of the leaves
and the now earlier enveloping
redness of the evening.

A paradox this beginning
with such a distance from spring,
a coincidence maybe
but it can be connected with blood,
this closeness, this streaming of redness,
at one with our pace and pulse,
growing in our own dark,
this pressing sky and skin
we are stuck on.


Crafty Green Poet said...

This is so true, I think it has a lot to do with going back to school in autumn being a real formative influence.

Dave King said...

In my end is my beginning, is the thought that occurred to me. It is a paradox, but a very common and a very powerful one. The poem matches it for power, though it goes about it in a gentler way.

Tommaso Gervasutti said...

Thank you Juliet and Dave.

Autumn and school Juliet, maybe the strongest and most "inbred" association for a whole life.

Dave, your mentioning Eliot gives me a great breathing space.