Don't We All?

I wish to crumple the paper
and ring out the ink
so to drain the words
from the page
for a chance to escape
to an earlier time,
when history wasn't written,
it was lived.

© 2012 Kait

Eternal Autumn

Sputtering, onyx bumps burst

releasing the aroma of carbon from

monotonous--meditating

leaf blowers on the backs of men, working

for a pleasant life, as they

stir orphaned, tangy harvest leaves,

scattering them on the sidewalks, I

swoon through the cerulean

chill of a November day.