THE acrid scents of
autumn,
Reminiscent
of slinking beasts, make me fear
Everything, tear-trembling stars of
autumn
And the snore
of the night in my ear.
For suddenly,
flush-fallen,
All my
life, in a rush
Of
shedding away, has left me
Naked, exposed on the
bush.
I, on the bush of the
globe,
Like a
newly-naked berry, shrink
Disclosed: but I also am prowling
As well in the scents that
slink
Abroad: I in this naked
berry
Of flesh that
stands dismayed on the bush;
And I in the stealthy, brindled
odours
Prowling
about the lush
And acrid night of
autumn;
My soul,
along with the rout,
Rank and treacherous, prowling,
Disseminated out.
For the night, with a great breath
intaken,
Has taken
my spirit outside
Me, till I reel with disseminated consciousness,
Like a man who has
died.
At the same time I stand
exposed
Here on the
bush of the globe,
A
newly-naked berry of flesh
For the stars to probe.