Fractal [e]scapes IV

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Where does autumn descend to?

What does it look for under things?

Why does it drag all the colors down

as if must spoil whatever sinks?

And where do we descend to

like small portable autumns?

Where do we go down to even though autumn ends?

What disordered light

hollows out our foundations or erases them?

Or does life lack foundations

and only light swims in the emptiness?

Autumn pull us

towards a depth that doesn't exist.

All the while

we go on looking toward a height

that exist even less.

― Roberto Juarroz

tr. by Mary Crow