Late hops have grown ripe on the vine & I drift alongside flowers / holdouts from warmer days everything is gold in this gold -en morning can gold be an allegory for frutility? can the hue of the world differ from content? Temperature & temperment in a world of forms I am formless as plums grow soft / fall I am formless & gold morning is lost to overcast it will rain & windows darken like constellar stars Orion my unrequited guide my lover love!—no—love as you are lost no North star no sun rain stars or moon & I am an allegory for gold & I am tarnished / hops grow green little buds germinate! germinate! grateful to the ground the plums fall too soon just so soon everything becomes shapeless
Lovely, classical beats on this one Simon. I'm enjoying your poems :)
There is a very nice sway in all of this one!