fall 'n symbols      (a recalcitrant response to Longfellow’s Harvest Moon)                                               withered roses in the smitten cold a way of nimbly nipping at the bud thorns that bloom in vain within the folds of gorgeous sentient clips that smite the edges lining organs intended to be pumps that simply fill our beating veins with blood but all this pompous verbiage beheld has rendered vital parts obscene among the pages of our pithy sighs depending on the us of this and that we’d better fill our days with trimming hats with full blown maids arranging plastic flowers culled from curtained stalls of ancient showers alas this synonymic woe and gracious me redundant triplets cowering in the storm giving life and love tendentious form if there are song birds  listening to these words gobble up and graze among the stanzas your empty nest withholds a new apartment for gold winged brides in groomed saffron organza