THE FALLING
You walk in the room.
You take all my breath.
I’m a leaf floating.
I’m a flying feather.
What comes after?
It’s the falling.
I’m a leaf wilting.
I am flying with grace.
What comes down?
It’s the falling.
You walk out of the room.
You take my eyes with you.
THE CRYING WORLD
The crying world
exposes an idiot heart.
It sings a disjointed song.
Every minute it wails.
The stars shine on.
They are dead.
Still poets look to the stars.
The world seeks substance.
It trembles.
It goes mad.
It seeks eternal truth.
The multitude of stars
are flowers of the sky.
They shine and the world cries.
NO BURIAL
Don’t waste a coffin on me.
I don’t need a grave.
I don’t want scavengers
coming to the cemetery
to feast on me without
my permission. In
the night
I don’t want to stay up.
In the day I want to sleep.
I need no burial.
Place
my ashes in my car.
Drive the car off a cliff.
Let it sink into the sea.
I have always liked the rain.
The white fishes could eat
my ashes. I don’t
feel well.
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