the old woman raked her leaves,
put them into sacks; on their way
to the land of leaves and foliage;
brown that was green, now dust.

i heard footsteps. then not. where
did the bodiless footsteps go?

the world was square according to him;
he said people leave town; never come back.

but he was gonna be different, he said.
he sailed across the ocean, then fell off.


never once did the magician's hands leave his arms.
he pulled David Copperfield out of a brimless hat;
who had a rabbit.

my moccasins allowed my stealthy walk;
passing others clad in noisy clod-hoppers,
i silently glided over their forefathers,
just as easily as i glide past them.

11/20/2009

Posted on 11/20/2009
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan