A Moment in October, George Freek

Philip Kobylarz, Evidence of the Multiverse, Photograph




As leaves fall in late afternoon,
a solitary girl strolls
along the darkening street.
Leaves blow like rose petals
before her sandaled feet.
The moon is like glass,
as the leaves fall into the night.
The girl has disappeared.
She’s left me with a memory
of things that pass,
and as the clouds darken,
rain begins to fall
on wet leaves,
on the cold grass.

George Freek


Review by Massimo Fantuzzi

The future is already long gone. / Nevertheless, it may be possible it will admit some reruns / given the increase in bookings. [from E. Montale, The future is already long gone.]

To those who dare to look and those who put time and patience into paying attention, every detail of their surroundings speaks of the passing of things. It takes inner serenity and self-assurance to stop the petty pursuits and pretentiousness of everyday life, to look up straight, to claim the ground we stand on, and to admit and appreciate the deciduousness of the elements on it. Before her sandaled feet, the one-way path that petals and leaves will care to conceal has already begun to vanish into the darkness of our memory. Yet, there is comfort in all this: a fulfilling peace of desert, fatal and fate-bound, where longings and possessions have or will inevitably pass and so will their memories and our mourning, which is but waiting to follow the procession and fade soon after, as November is behind the corner.




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