[[!meta title="Autumn Birth (a three-minute exercise)"]] [[!meta date="2007-12-12T06:37:00"]] [[!meta updated="2007-12-12T06:37:00"]] [[!tag ]] The hanging fall sun is
nicked by billboards and weathervanes

and splits, a broken egg yolk
dripping thick golden glaze

on sugar-puff exhalations
warming worn-in bricks and lonely city trees.


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(I like writing small simple poems about small simple things. Why yes, I am a Hicok/WCW fangirl, how did you know?)