tonight, up there

1.

have you felt that out
in november in the early morning
when you have been warming green
things with a bic, out there wearing
a sweater and jeans in the
sink and shrill autumn, shivering
not because you are cold, noticing
every single seventy six leaves
casting down to the ground, murmuring
to the squirrels and the nightcrawlers
that do not mind the temperature

(as if you were a word on the lips
of earth touching her somewhere at each
second and she touching you, as if
the earth said to you i have breathed
you falling out my mouth in vapor i love
you and now you have inhaled me the
crystal tendrils of me now hang from my
limbs until the old man winter comes
to drag you down,

as if there were
seventy seven leaves)?