the California wisteria embracing the backporch is rusting

                                                              being denuded by the coming winter season

things it hid are being exposed and theyre uncomfortable in the sunlight

                                                                             squeezing their eyes shutbeg for the relief of soft moonlight  shades of night to efface their hard boundaries

theyll miss the wisterias summer green foliage that enlarged themwoke their imaginings

not that they didnt anticipateexpect it

                                        just that theyre neverready for winter   again  minimised

they are rocks

                  who imagine themselves the mountains they were wrought from composed in the womb of time

they are emptied seashells

                               who imagine themselves wet  occupied by strange flesh

they are blacksmithed square nails

                                        who once hugged planks roughhewn beams listened to the complains cries laughter of nowdead children

in the sunlight

                 they are static  singular

but not in his eyes

                     inside the wisterias greens  hidden  they are something else

he knows

    as night falls he lights a cigar

                                      and listens to them  bathe   restore  their memories histories

Friday,  17  11. 06

1220,  day-between-2-Ts,  4  12. 24