Franz Wright, from Earlier Poems; “The Leaves”
[Text ID: I really have to rouse myself, maybe / even call up a friend I have missed; / or go for a walk in my neighborhood's / shady decrepitude (where do they go / when August comes, where / do they all disappear to) … / And I fully intend to, I certainly should— / just give me a minute or two, / I am so incredibly weary / and I don't know why. I think / these leaves are wishing me / asleep.]






















