Expecting myself
to continue existence
with the full retention
of my emotions,
depends, in the way
a variable affects a graph,
on the limits my sanity
can afford itself to pain
without being forever damaged
by the echoes, and reverberations
of what that pain itself is rooted in.
And yes, I fell in love with you,
a stranger, a thousand
years before I ever existed,
so please don�t misunderstand
why I�m so freshly drawn,
freely given to anger,
having to have waited for love
since the moment
I lost my innocence,
like an orphan,
deprived of sustenance
of soul, of the scraps
scattered by gnawing cupids
clawing each other
in between the desperation
of drifting clouds,
denouncing the stillness
in a sky lacking wind.
I waited for an eternity
that couldn�t
describe itself to me
in even
the guaranteed
gesticulations
of a grandfather clock,
so, how could
the moon under
the anesthesia of dawn
do any different,
achieve any better
clarity of explanation
in the cycles it defines?
��������The leaves agonize
at the colorful possibilities
a strong wind provides
in terms of residency;
brown and gold
like a checkerboard
they misalign their symmetries,
cloak themselves
appealingly in optical illusion.
Fusion of cider fermenting
into the breeze and pumpkin guts
squeezed out onto a table
bring October to make smooth emesis
of, the ghouls and nostalgia
that clog the arteries of autumn.
Au Revoir my love, I�ll be missing you,
My mother the saint, My father the god.



�2005 by Paul Adrian Mabelis