Fall

Some night
between a fallen mist
and the quiet earth
my distance runs wild.

smaller by every wound
darker made the cold rain

some journeys
between the ripple of old oars
and nowhere
my swansongs of ether noons
reckon with me.

arched by the latent burn
brackish made the frail sea

some other bones of
half open nights
between my gypsy river
and the seeds of refuge sleep
life does not wait
and the mind floats away.