Autumn of Unrest

For leaves and settlement cities weep,

pour down their pints into the deep,

and go back home to their sad news,

as the leaves collect in rattled zoos,

and far to the East the truth is rotting,

go back, come home, a circle plotting,

insidious needs with fixed dead eyes,

pile up on plastic; numbers lie

like most of good and honest thought,

the rest tied down with slipping knot,

and plan for futures ill begotten,

look in, not out, from blood to cotton,

but where am i inside this ball,

where good intent alone will stall?

beauty climbs television trees,

fortune tellers need only CVs,

they no longer bother with palms or crystal,

and God's hand tenses and holds a pistol -

If I don't fit in, come claim me back,

sky carrying clouds in lily-white sack,

we'll tuck up there, be nice and warm,

and release obligation to gathering storm,

but we can't do that! - the easiest thread,

we must stay awake and do justice to bed,

the leaves which for so long were green

will come again soon, hang settled, be seen!