my heartbreak's back

having a wonderful time. wish you were here. for more than a week i've been looking for the words to undo the spell of these trees. Also the sky strikes me as much bigger here. I think every American must be a naturalist. even in the city, october trees are burning from the inside out, rippling with fabulous coins into gutters. I am numb with the wading out, the digging in. I have tried to write down the chattering brown angels that bite the roadsides. to no avail. forgive me for not addressing this postcard to anyone. there is no poem to work on but there are bookshops and black voices, there is rain while i'm sleeping and then there are puddles.