September Evening

Poesis #7: an elegy for the wardens of summer

This is what happened. Then I immediately went indoors and wrote, urgently, simultaneously clinging to its clarity and profundity, and channeling it - to the best of my ability - through words into something approximating its essence. Isn’t that, after all, one of the noble goals of poetry?

September Evening

I am not troubled
When I remember you;
Only con…