with easy starts
are not the first
ones to our hearts
when the cold cadaver light of day
takes one of those we love away
After the funeral
– when the funeral was over
– After we had buried him
We walked across the grass
…We walked across the grass
leaving footprints in the dew
footprints in the dew
How was that possible
’God’s name how was that possible
with him forever
And now, forever
looking back across the grass
The warmth of the day
losing us all, forever
MARK you not yon sad procession;
‘Mid the ruin’d abbey’s gloom,
Hastening to the worm’s possession,
To the dark and silent tomb!
See the velvet pall hangs over
Poor mortality’s remains;
We should shudder to discover
What that coffin’s space contains.
Death itself is lovely—wearing
But the colder shape of sleep;
Or the solemn statue bearing
Beauty that forbids to weep.
But decay—the pulses tremble
When its livid signs appear;
When the once-loved lips resemble
All we loathe, and all we fear.
Is it not a ghastly ending
For the body’s godlike form,
Thus to the damp earth descending,
Food and triumph to the worm?
Better far the red pile blazing
With the spicy Indian wood,
Incense unto heaven raising
From the sandal oil’s sweet flood.
In the bright pyre’s kindling flashes,
Let my yielded soul ascend;
Fling to the wild winds my ashes
‘Till with mother-earth they blend.
Not so,—let the pale urn keep them;
Touch’d with spices, oil, and wine;
Let there be some one to weep them;
Wilt thou keep that urn? Love mine!
Respects have been paid
by those with good manners
and by the mawkish with
And now, I sit in a chasm of nothingness.
Raging seas crashing from my eyes,
whilst salty rivers run from my
nose to the tip of my tongue
My day is slate grey with
nimbus clouds abroad.
And my ambivalence riles
against a once merciful Being
No longer registered are the passing
differences between the sun and moon
or the advancing hours of a stagnated clock.
Gone are my reasons for either
I have become Omega, last of my family.
And now I sit, beneath a canopy of pain.
Waiting for her whisper.
Oh, dear God. Let it be soon.