New York-Albany
God i had forgotten how
the Hudson burns
in indian autumn
Saugerties
Cocksackie
fall away through
all those trees
The leaves die turning
falling fallen
falling into loam of dark
yellow into death
Disappearing
falling fallen falling
god god those
‘pestilence-stricken multitudes’
rushed into the streets
blown all blasted
They are hurting them
with wood rakes
They are raking them
in great hills
They are burning them
lord lord
the leaves curl burning
the curled smoke gives up
to eternity
Never
never the same leaf turn again
the same leaves burn
lord lord
in a red field
a white stallion stands
and pees his oblivion
upon those leaves
washing my bus window
only now blacked out
by a covered bridge
we flash through
only once
No roundtrip ticket
Lord Lord never returning
the youth years fallen
away back then
Under the Linden trees in Boston Common
Lord Lord
trees think
through these wood of years
They flame forever
with those thoughts
Lord lord
i did not see eternity
the other night
but now in burning
turning day
Lord Lord Lord
every bush burns
Love licks
all down
All gone
in the red end
Lord Lord Lord Lord
Small nuts fall
Mine too
By Lawrence Ferlinghetti
From Poet’s Choice
Time Life Books 1962
—Ferlinghetti’s note on the poem: “This is a favorite poem of mine
because it fills a central moment in the middle of the journey of my life
when I came to myself in a dark wood . . . .”
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