Fall Arrives as Crisp as a Counterfeit Bill
by Corey Messler
It’s a beautiful day
and I
am as sad
as Adam,
every tree a place
I’ve failed,
every stone
something I came
up against.
Displaced from
the cooling
world,
I take my pariahship
seriously.
There’s light coming
in through
the door, left
ajar when you left.
I feel guilty
standing within it,
my arms
weak like reeds,
my feet
hard tools,
for moving about here,
in this cul-de-sac
at worlds-end.
Autumn
by Corey Messler
I step onto the front porch
the first morning the boards
are cold against my soles
and relish that feeling of being
alive and sensory. There
are other things, of course, but
right now, this seems of
primary importance, like love.
