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D(R)EAD

 

From an unanchored shadow

over there, under a tree in the school-yard

caught lurking in the corner of an eye

I heard it said

that you want me dead.

 

Always one to comply,

your prize will be delivered,

this day, or another,

my body a fool’s gold

to fill an eternal void.

 

Yet the light whispering on wet leaves told

that you yourself died long ago

deep inside, it has long been lame and cold,

unnoticed even in passing

and tragically unmourned.

 

When did it happen, that secret death?

Was I away with the kids?

Or too lost in love of being

to see that you had gone?

 

A death like no mortal course –

a rupture of soul from source

of word from meaning

of man from feeling

as the void empties spaces

where other humans live.

 

Leaving a body that stalks the courts

repeating words spieled out

long ago in random sequence

squealing vengeance at life itself.

 

 

Ochroma lagopus

  Daddy
spring,
you never
said
you
would reach 40;
drunk and real dead,
your girl pruned mortal,
knocking shock in time,
from clearing surreal.
feeling wood-like that
coffin,             Mr.  Sheen
dense,        shoulder
funeral          flame
flares             in forest
to burn                  white dwarf,

Dead
sun-
in that
bleak
hollow
follows olive twig,
branch of instant whip,
hurt leaf-lip shaking,
tear in mossy face-
your son and grace.
today 40 years, dead
drunk and gardened
in clinics, splinters
will incinerate-
clutching forsaken
flute – and flakes of ash
rises in balsa wood holes
where death is mute…
he blows songs of rage.