In my experience, if you make enough questionable decisions in a row it tends to lead to ‘turning over a new leaf.’ Thankfully, the concept of turning a new leaf is referring to the word ‘leaf’ in a 16th century sort of way, when the pages of a book were referred to as ‘leaves’. I’m not trying to be some kind of genius I suppose all I’m trying to say is it seems easier to turn to a blank page than to keep climbing trees. I also feel a bit silly for increasing poor behavior in the Autumnal months because of the easier access to leaves on the ground. This next poem has nothing to do with foliage but I did start writing it on a blank page then I crossed it out, turned the page over and I started again.


In a moment of clarity

Inside my fuzzy head

I stood up on a chair

And declared myself dead

Every person in the room

Didn’t understand what I said

So I told them it’s a reset

And I’m starting again

In a moment of vanity

From a four-poster bed

I tied up my hair

And sat quietly as I bled

Alone in a suite for a honeymoon

The virgin white sheets now painted red

The clock says it’s too late for regret

And I’m starting again