Analect 2.378x

3 November 2008. Yellow-gray clouds at dawn, their scalloped edges, a Liverpool barmaid's lace, fluffy and ill-drawn, anything but clumsy though, this a.m. swirl, all cheek and hope...

We count the days, the lowering light, as autumn sets in. All Hallow's Eve--remnant now in vacant lots--pumpkin shadows, a ghostly figure in black, on a wire, as if in flight...

Brown leaf on windshield glass, tucked under worn rubber wiper...

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