...Autumn love the autumn would fill the earth with perpetual Autumn; if I were rich enough I'd follow Autumn everywhere/ Paint my home in Shelley's orange and brown and hectic red; rub tincture of turning leaves onto my own limbs to motley my skin into a panoply of hues; buy potted trees and fill my darkened rooms with them, inject them full of October until I lay ankle deep in fallings of pages more wrinkled and withered and crisped and sere than poor Poe's ...
(from "Dead Leaves the Emblem's Truest", by Brett Rutherford 1981)