Rod McKuen - Flight Plan


SUNDAY		Polaroid photo by Edward McKuen, August 2002 ©2002 by Stanyan Music Group. All rights reserved. A Thought for Today Solitude is a gift that most of us are too dumb to appreciate. FLIGHTS FROM6THE PAST 23 SEPTEMBER 1998 UNPREPARED FOR AUTUMN We never learn. Even after several hundred seasons, none of us prepare or are prepared when fall falls into place. It is as though we each expected summer to last beyond the calendar. And when the long and bulging arm of frost reaches across the land, some of us pretend that autumn is still some miles away... a few more kilometers down the road. Why? Because if you’re alone in autumn, you’ll be alone all winter long. And so security becomes not just the scepter or the wand but the banner we hold high for confidence while looking for safety that is real, sure security. I am at one with nature in the fall, and love and loyalty to the season are as important to me as they are with new friends and those collected down a lifetime of autumns. Today I’ve picked some autumn thoughts and a few more poems from ". . . and autumn came", written forty-eight years ago. - adapted from "Rod McKuen’s Book of Days", 1981 & "Watch for the Wind," 1983 with new material, 1998 Click on the heart logo to buy Rod McKuen books, CD's and lots more Click on the Stanyan House logo to subscribe to the McKuen Mailing List Catch Rod McKuen live! Click on the links below for new details (posted 09/09/2002). ROD McKUEN APPEARANCES ROD McKUEN CONCERTS



		Scott Baio o Shari Belafonte-Harper o Andrea Bocelli o Debby Boone o Nick Cave o Lord Chesterfield o Michael Faraday o Tom Felton o Richard C. Hottelet o John Houseman o Bonnie Hunt o Joni James o Joan Jett o Ingemar Johansson o Tommy Lasorda o Alice Meynell o Paul Muni o Catherine Oxenburg o Martha Scott o Eric Stoltz o Erich Von Stroheim o Henryk Szeryng

		Autumn is the time when seasons merge because of bare necessity. If you’re alone in autumn. . .winter will be hard. Autumn is the underbrush of winter. The autumn always kills in halves. So birch does not go yellow all at once but by degrees.

FIVE POEMS FROM " . . . and autumn came"		september 30 the lake is quiet now not a boat not a swan or the circle of a breathing fish disturbs its waters... the moon is crawling through the trees on its belly see... its legs are that clump of reeds oh yes i remember my town home the warm beer of sunday the lavender smell of my mother’s bathroom the growing older and the tears as a child i grew alone i tell you this because after a lifetime of being nothing i am in love... and loved october 2 follow me follow me and I will lead you through the alleys and down the darkened streets... to home cross here follow the chalk marks along the sidewalk where children played this afternoon lift your feet. go quietly disturbing no one on the sleeping street close your eyes and the sight of tall brick buildings with dirty windows will be gone stop a moment and listen to your own footsteps echoing resounding through an asphalt alley october 13 I hate it all. the dim light. the forced smiles the long line of literary bustards sitting in the quiet formation on a never-ending couch each looking like a personal in the saturday review the now full now empty martini glass each with a delicatessen toothpick through a delicatessen olive all the men eyeing you wondering what we do at home it is your party have fun with it are there any ways left to tell you that I love you when the sum total is announced when the final word count is made from the last paragraph written and the last word spoken will I have said it all. come home with me october 14 you laugh like a bolt of calico you smile like strawberries swimming in cream good morning baby you sigh like the first raindrops that settle on the window you frown like a disappointed bride no... I like my coffee black you cry like a brave soldier or a nun hardly ever two eggs’ll be fine you sleep like last week’s newspaper just a minute while I brush my teeth october 15 nightfall and on the evening air comes a lullaby not for children . . . but for grown up people in love be still . . . let nothing disturb you love will come and stay be still . . . this is a lullaby for you outside the dust lies thick the lawns and gutters are littered with dead leaves the night is long listen to my lullaby a man looks no longer his heart has found a home - from ". . . and autumn came," 1954, 1969 AUTHORS NOTE: In the 1969 republication of " . . . and autumn came" I revised some lines in these poems and omitted others. I have restored the poems here to conform to the 1954 original edition, with the exception of a single verse from the poem entitled "september 30."

Birthday research by Wade Alexander o Poetry from the collection of Jay Hagan o Coordinated by Melinda Smith o Sound & Fury Dr. Eric Yeager o Webmaster Ken Blackie

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