Autumn Gravestones [poem]
whispering sheaves of grass
hang gracefully over plains
of delicate earthen dirt
and I long
shimmering weaves of glass
shine forcefully under waves
of predicate heathen hurt
in my song
slithering grieves en masse
slide remorselessly at graves
of semicut seething spurt
ness so strong
shivering leaves alas
wake patiently outside frames
over deadweight breeding births
which go wrong
quivering breathe impasse
breaks vacantly into flames
while sensate wuthering works
won’t belong
withering wreathes amassed
make abundantly their vein
when heartrate shuddering jerks
cue the gong
© 2011, Alan Morrison
The Naked Troubadour 