Half Fallen Leaves

In the valley of the broken
Where the lonely like to roam
Beetles scuttle across rivers of teeth,
Beggars usher the elements
And clouds hang in the sky
Like half fallen leaves
On a canopy of nothing.

In the basin of the ruined
Farmers with faces like fists
And milk hags with cream moustaches
Poke the world with glee,
The skies cry mud
And pottery scarecrows too scared to stay
Crack under pressure.

In the crevasse of the bankrupt
Taverns filled with bile and blood
Open their curses to strangers
And rot all the grasses and hedgerows,
Ducks inhale the silence
And the only life left
Is the groan of wasted memories.


4 Responses to “Half Fallen Leaves”

  1. Bottles keep ships from sailing.

  2. Written long ago, but still worth rereading.

  3. Glad you think so. It’s a bit bleak – but it’s one of my favourites 🙂

  4. It’s a favorite of mine as well. Something special lies in the shortened and quiet. It gives the reader somewhat of a creative opportunity to fill in the blanks in the bleak, or something. 🙂

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