Leaves

all of these leaves
start to fray
like a photograph
and all of these years
start to fade
like a phonograph
all these machines
ant and fly
and an old giraffe
learning fast but
barely lasting
blinking
through
the turning, churning lathe

begin to, begin to
belong
to the still point
of it all
begin to, begin to
belong
to the still point of it all

all of these words
kept for centuries apart
while all that I burn
wears forever my mark
why asking how
asking when
asking now
all resounding
all around the
still point
of the yawning
laughing night

begin to, begin to
belong to
the still point of it all
begin to, begin to
belong to
the still point of it all

all of my past
is this faraway place
as my memories brown
like a well-beloved face
I no longer feel
even slightly afraid
I wasn't made
to feel pain for long
the weight of my sorrows
will fit in a song
as I

begin to, begin to
belong to
the still point of it all
begin to, begin to
belong to
the still point of it all

of it all
of it all
of