Patterned Trees/Unpatterned Winds

Some day, I think, a tree'll collapse and fossilize in my backyard in Massachusetts.
I'll call it your nakedness:

Not 'cause of the falling but the wind created by it.

I see needlework in the way you walk, it's different from mine. Is there a pattern of nakedness?
Would you use a different stitch?

Petrified. Like the snap of a rubberband. That's me.
And your nakedness? I don't know if I'm with it like I always wanted.
The falling of that tree, reverberating off crumbling leaves:

And your nakedness?

A rushing, full stitch and it's a wind.

Las Hojas que Faltan (The Leaves that are Missing) (revised just a bit)

"He's the one I want because he is the one I have hung all my desires upon"
-- Yarima Goode

When I first met him
I hung arms around his neck.
Though he had two already
I let them hang.
I set eyes underneath his
and planted wheat and araucano seeds
in between his toes.

My desires outweigh his weight.
He is heavy with things.
Those new eyes can see and when
those eyes are mad
the branches shudder
like night. He walks with love
planted in him like acorns.

I hung my doubt on his belly
so his mouth grows
down when he’s naked.
But when we're up and
awake, we have six arms
that twine together like autumn.

Hommage a Picasso (after a series of paintings by the same name)

You six eyed mustachio,
darkened & lightened
wrapped and in public
gliding like strings (red)
aiming like a hawk (red)
over a black & blue

pieces of bulls everywhere
threatening the pink
of your women or the shattered
green of your women

a simple box with a floating canvas
is what you are:
sixteen sides
ready for color
slanting into the next frame.

Massachusetts, October, 2007 (PS...)

"Red sox just sweeped the world series
4-0 against the Rockies!!!
Also, Pats are undefeated!

Its starting to get cold in Boston,
but the fall smells beautiful
and the leaf change was heart stealing.

My cider went hard yesterday."