but now I bark at falling leaves,
the decay of fire into dusk
spilling over my head.

drinking midnight coffee,
quiet light comments on
the drunken wobble of my heart,
exploring the familiar, rumpled night.

a simple bitterness stains my fingers,
blotting the air,
creeping brown of rotting apples,
cloying,
suffocating,
affirming,
panacea for rusty obsessions.
dawn breaks without,
and lays its burning bed on my back.

my day damned already,
scalded tongue trapped in black coal water.
spider-eyed, I stare at asphalt,
imagining dead fruit gut lives.

but now I croak at frosted twigs,
the aging of ashes to morning
tumbling over my feet.

10/26/2006

Author's Note: an ode to the fifth age of man.

Posted on 10/26/2006
Copyright © 2026 Peter Hsu