leaves of men of leaves

rustle in the wind

and blow away.

in my autumn mind

I rake them with my thoughts

into neat cerebral patterns

that descend

leaves of men of leaves

lie on the cool green grass

of clairvoyant glass

breaking beneath my feet

into neat cerebral patterns

without end

leaves of men of leaves

fall from the fallen trees

far from the falling trees

catch in the falling breeze

my mind deceives

into neat cerebral patterns

once again

    1967