[Julie Steiner]

Norman Ball has thrown down this gauntlet:

Originally Posted by Norman Ball

...I see the ramping up of Fall poems across the way, so it got me thunkin'...

It's an interesting (though perhaps ill--fated) poetic challenge to re-imagine Fall without recourse to leaves, amber, crunching sounds or rakes. Can it be done, or has the season itself been permanently consigned to certain obligatory touchstones?

Graves (notoriously stingy over the appellation of 'poet') suggests that poetry is inseparable from the rhythms of moon (and menstrual) cycles, crop yields, fallow and pregnant fields, etc. Thus poetry itself is a celebration of the seasonal ebb and flow of fertility. Surely the modern, urban (urbane?) poet might take exception to this very narrow furrow.

Does Fall have residual meaning beyond fertility in abeyance, in which case the onslaught of falling leaves may become well-nigh unavoidable?

Andrew M. responded:

Originally Posted by Andrew Mandelbaum

Norm! Make a list of all the touchstones forbidden by the Arlington Manifesto and then let's have a challenge to write a piece to Autumn without them. If they all suck, we will know.

Okay, let's have at it, then. I'm at a huge advantage, living in San Diego...although yesterday it was 103F, so maybe not. I mainly know it's autumn because I'm walking face-first into so many spiderwebs. And because my husband's constantly watching football.