Autumn Leaves


Autumn leaves are like stained glass
Without the hassle of a mass
Without the nonsense of a god
When the sun is a frog 
Ablaze in the sky 
And your brain’s a wet fly 
Which she steals 
Through your eye


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Elliot Sperber is a writer, attorney, and adjunct professor. He lives in New York City and can be reached at and on twitter @elliot_sperber.