Fall 2002
Or at least,
They tell me I fell when the leaves did.
I think that might be why
I stand so vibrant against the sky
And timid on dead ground.
...
Red leaves, if they mean blood
Affirm both life and death,
The cadence of a breath
And lack thereof.
And if blood is how I came,
If symbolically I leave the same,
I was born an autumn baby
With all the duality
Due to that fame.
Flying ground-prone, forever in-between.
