Sadness That Brings Fall Early Poem by Luke J. Holt

A blushing little town
on the edge of a watery cloak
you wake up to fluffy eggs and feathers
kisses that tickle like tiny explosions
((army guy gun-fire))

I knew a tree killed by the sadness that brings fall early
copper coins of leaves a-wilt
the sopping somber of solid silt

an apple hit me like a dork
while i sat under a tree and tried to match your grimace shade to glimmered fade of autumn bones of trees now less of shade
im tired of talking to dream pictures when the night is spattered blue with nights to rove and to sleep unsound

to make my watch-hand turn as if to drain my prime
a sadness that makes wraiths of trees and hopelessness of time

temperate sundown
trudge till moons are sisters with shrilly ribbons of sound leading to dumb sunburned fountains where i can wait for friends

binary electric army
lets follow the snake of street
to the hole at the ragged edge of dreams

the saddest yellow arrow
shade of apples and the leaves
rendered naked as the maples
sad enough to strip the trees