Jason C. Brown Poems

Leaves are prettiest in autumn when they are
dying, competing for remembrance,
their brilliant blood-crimson and ochre bursts
like gasps, echoing,
...

are less important now.
I grow sick of their increase, the getting
closer to dying.
I'm not afraid of your approach, but
...

I exited the subway
and spied a homeless man sleeping
on the platform: white, bearded, middle-
class and middle-aged looking,
...