and the family's autumn

And the family's autumn shun upon our faces
and leaves were falling, god's hiding places
Night and day of color, howling spin of faces
Standing like the mist in our morning mases

Swings don't shiver anymore, the rain got them
Leaves quiver, and nearby the flicker of a totem
Of chance, corner of uncertain minds and mayhems
Of desperate holiness laughing in the beauty of cold

O the cold years of old, mold of I and fold of you
O desperate whispers, o to a kitten's whiskers
an old line rattling on in the edge of my view

that of a lost poet, weak but smiling
in the autumn afternoon

to the ghost of all places