October is my favorite month. It’s full of orange and decay and warm spice. We begin to hunker down and get ready to spend time with far-away relatives. It’s a month of poetry and bitter-sweet memories.<\/p>\n
To celebrate, I was thinking of writing a poem every day for the month. I tend to peter out of these things, but, you know, I’m forty, it’s about time I followed through with something, what else am I going to do, blah, blah. It’s just some words that take almost no time to put out there. And at the end of the month, I’ll have written half-again of all the poems I’ve written in my life.<\/p>\n
So looking forward, I’m going to repost a poem I wrote long ago for this October-eve. It was, of course, written for a lost love and has not aged as well as some of the poems I wrote that had nothing to do with women. Such is life. But this was the first poem that had a cadence that I would unconsciously refine into something a bit sharper, a bit less morose, and a bit more universal. From 1997:<\/p>\n
###October\u2014and the Sound of It<\/p>\n
and I cannot fight this wind
\n Our bond breaks
\nI am gone
\nseparated from the branch
\nand spiraling down beneath the sky
\nthe world rushes up towards me
\nand twisting and turning through the breeze
\nI’m sure that this is the end
\nbut then I land
\n Alone
\n Soon to be gathered up
\nand placed within the safety of numbers<\/p>\n
This is my fall
\n My Autumn
\nThis is my October<\/p>\n
remember laughing with me
\n About the silly things
\n That some considered important
\nremember holding my hand
\n Watching the fire burn in my heart
\n And the dying light within my eyes
\nthis is what Fate meant
\n For what I let happen
\nI did not fight that wind<\/p>\n
That was my fall
\n My Autumn
\nThat was my October<\/p>\n
What causes the Earth to rumble
\n is often
\n the stillness
\n of nothing\u2026<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
October is my favorite month. It’s full of orange and decay and warm spice. We begin to hunker down and get ready to spend time with far-away relatives. It’s a month of poetry and bitter-sweet memories. To celebrate, I was thinking of writing a poem every day for the month. I tend to peter out […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_import_markdown_pro_load_document_selector":0,"_import_markdown_pro_submit_text_textarea":"","_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[12],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-358","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poem"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p8nj3d-5M","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/macphoenix.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/358","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/macphoenix.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/macphoenix.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/macphoenix.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/macphoenix.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=358"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/macphoenix.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/358\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":365,"href":"https:\/\/macphoenix.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/358\/revisions\/365"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/macphoenix.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=358"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/macphoenix.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=358"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/macphoenix.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=358"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}