wITHER aND bLAIN*

A mealwormy sky, the eternal return has returned. Overnight the leaves on the tree outside my bedroom window have vanished, withered, dried up, fallen willy-nilly to whereabouts where. What was once a foundry of colour, yellows and browns, mercurochrome reds and oranges, is now the absence of colour, the wither of wither, an autumnal necrosis. Death has overtaken life; wither sway, polychrome monochrome, a mortuary of spoil and blain. Autumn is like a Mahler symphony, a Wagnerian mimesis, a Kierkegaardian either or, a trembling unto death, the eternal return returned, death on the instalment plan, spoil and blain, wither and rot, a vanishing.