Pond Tree

Many shadows of leaves
fall on the goldfish
in our weird pond

On their flightier school
fall shadows of yellow
leaves flighty in wind

Neurotic school of leaves
shaped like the fish
lanceolate leaves

These fish are spooked
by the sense of shadows
on their orange backs

On their sides, a weird
dappling of themselves
over themselves

They can never know
but seem to sense
how nature ghosts to selves



As a child
he loved to be buried
alive in wild leaves
come autumn
a tumulus of orange
red, yellow
would lie quietly as a king
inside his burial mound
as our hands dropped fluttering
starred flakes of blood and gold
across his laugh
last of all
I remember your eyes
Why come to see you
buried bitterly today
without the colors
we all possessed then