Tag: William Rieppe Moore

Barton Springs, Tennessee

The last of the oak leaves
spindown drunkenly as if they

were in the hydraulics of
mechanical flywheels.

When I rake them up, I will
summon the ocean surface

out past the breakers, bits
of spray will splash my cheek—

collaterals of sound, the sense
and touch of remembrance.

When I rake them up, blisters
will put lava stains on the

inside of my hands. Sunshine
from a yawnin’ distance will

shake loose its last warm rays,
tilting towards an outer rim

in a cycle even stars can’t stay
as forces in the heavenlies.

NOVUS Literary and
Arts Journal
Lebanon, TN