In the Garden
of Waning Things
for Roger and
Biggie
'Twas before adult
rationale beset its debilitations,
midnight
sensations called into the Garden of Waning Things
autumnal calls my
cat in moonlight answered
I, steeped in
waking dream and circumstance, followed...
among the
sunflowers you should have seen
the Scarecrow and
Cat on All Hallows Eve'n
'cross orange
gourd, green tangled cord
they danced so
close on All Hallows Eve'n
They twisted and
tumbled in the elegance of vine
fruit to the root
backward bridge
across time
an old lover's
curse
one short
reprieve, dance Scarecrow and Cat
on All Hallows
Eve'n
I in the shadow
where wild things
grow
hid my enchantment
from pumpkin-light glow
the handsomest
Scarecrow I ever did see
in the crook of
his arm
verdant was She
in his fertile
ground
a sanctified sound
sweet dulcet
dirge, rush and recede
the strum and the
beat
"Dead and the
Living
all dance the same
on All Hallows Eve'n"
said Scarecrow to
Cat, "I am you, you are me
as we dance, straw
to claw
the Great Scythe
sweeps
crouch and leap
our souls will keep
beyond that
material sleep
regret not, nor be
sad
now is all we ever
had
you I love and all
that's green
yet in this garden
seen, unseen.
falls to harvest
to one thing
for better for
worse
subvert our curse
posterity ring of
what we bring
when Winter does
his reckoning
shall we feast?
shall we fall?
does the harvest
matter at all?
when I tend the
Token Seed
from dirt to
blossom: fruit or weed?"
"my gentle
counter-glow," Cat said to Scarecrow
"familiar, am I,
with subtle
flights
those gloryshades
spanning
Ever-morns to Ever-nights
these thoughts
conceived by a thousand Hallowe'ens
a knowledge
gleaned
between
hidden heavens and
hells
a whisker whisper
tells
all dead things
lie
in that, trust
if I must, let it
die
what misery or joy
is meant to last
beneath corporeal
countenance all sensations cast."
Suddenly, over
head
ghostly choirs
more alive than
dead
more felt than
seen
sang:
"nothing more is
green
Mother call your
children home
time to sleep, no
time to roam
this gloaming
season is the reason
as Autumn Fires
stake their claim
countermand the
Vital Name
can you feel? have
you seen?
nothing more is
green!"
coaxed from my
space
for spice secede
cinnamon, nutmeg,
apple sweet
clove confections
queer concoctions
warm, replete
gingerly
mixed I, with
spectral creations
ciders shared with
long past relations
drunk on
kaleidoscope celebrations
and curious
revelations
'bout Scarecrow
and Cat
on All Hallows
Eve'n
whatever lot these
two had cast
their lives were
doomed as lovers last
Scarecrow would
bow, his final submission
while Cat could
pine, she'd have no remission
helpless, I,
accept, where
child's tears in virtue kept
bore the task, for
Cat, I wept
undaunted, All
souls crept
from Night to fade
in Dawn's resplendent light...
and the Great
Scythe passed
a silent swing
stole spirit
Scarecrow from Hallowe'en
soft upon the
scatter glow
of this great and
secret show
to Cat, said He,
"you I love, but
nothing more is Green."
his soul lost
a glittering frost
settled on the
scene
leaving Cat and I
alone
in the Garden of
Waning Things
fresh with insight
and much humility
thanks to the
serendipity-greater than me
gave Cat to her
silent lament
resting on the
crown of a pumpkin bed
delirium clouding
my head
hiding testimony
raced I home
dumb from
Nightshades and Mourning Glories
Rushed to write
this cinnamon prose-
bitter to taste,
sweet on the nose.
10/11/03
