The porchlight coming on again,
Early November, the dead leaves
Raked in piles, the wicker swing
Creaking. Across the lots
A phonograph is playing Ja-Da.
An orange moon. I see the lives
Of neighbors, mapped and marred
Like all the wars ahead, and R.
Insane, B. with his throat cut,
Fifteen years from now, in Omaha.
I did not know them then.
My airedale scratches at the door.
And I am back from seeing Milton Sills
And Doris Kenyon. Twelve years old.
The porchlight coming on again.
Back to Weldon Kees
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Comments1I really enjoyed Weldon Kees' poem that captures a moment in time so vividly. The imagery of "Early November, the dead leaves, Raked in piles" paints a clear picture of the scene. It's intriguing how he sees glimpses of his neighbors' future lives and how he transports us back to his twelve-year-old self. Very well written!