Color-changed and juices spent your average tree
abandons hope of saving its riches and begins
a fall that resembles economic collapse. One thing
leads to another. Moisture accumulating in the sky …
A boulder balancing against gravity over
the mountain path … An old gasket no longer
able to hold its own for the safety of a cook …
The moment arrives like a mob in the street. Some
sweet souls just want to kiss the new year in
and others have an urge to kill. The monkey's
grip lets go. Everyone is soaking wet with ‘love.’
Music scores are marked crescendo. A Tolstoyan
force of history relieves us of responsibility
for the deaths of shopkeepers and of friends
before the final peace sets in, the end of ends.
Stephen J. Williams 