The Days and Nights

In the days and nights
of my dying
as candle light flickers
what was always destined
will emerge
Will it be
during Spring showers
or in Summer's warmth
Perhaps the falling leaves
of Autumn will greet me
or the final frost of Winter
Will I gaze out a window
and sigh as the sun
breaks through the clouds
and tells me
everything I need to know

Curation

Curating the images
of my life
into something worth
the viewing

Sunsets at the beach
Bands mid-song in concert
Odds and ends of nature
Curious graffiti
Vacation pictures
Palms in dying light

Mere moments
in a larger narrative

What is unseen

The hours spent alone
in contemplation
and solitude
Self-doubt
Drunkenness brought
on by helplessness
Laps spent sweating
at the track
Hours at work
spent on the phone
answering questions
waiting for the shift
to be over

Curious curation

A life filled with images

Which will I hold
when at last
the light
begins to flicker
and wane

Learn to

Let go

      of the world

One day

    it will let go 

of you

Dying creatures on an infertile world. 

Morning Ghost

My life has gone and only memories of me
Will remain with you.
It was too soon, far sooner than
Any of us would have wanted.
How romantic is it to idealize this
Post-life existence?
I have left the room we shared
For my lifetime
And walked into the backyard
That leads into the forest.
There are paths here
Worn well into the dirt
Amidst the evergreens.
It is not possible for you to ever
Lose me entirely.
Mourn where you must,
You will, and I will
Hold you in my own way
As your tears flow
Like existence itself.
Is death freedom?
It can be seen as such
But there is much
I would still return to
Back home if the pulse
could have been found.

Carved Into Rock

Older, fatter, balder,
The fate of us all is hewn into rock
Visible for all to see
In every known and dead tongue
Belief in a pantheon of gods
Becomes another's mythology
We believe in our own wisdom
Yet often miss the glaring light
Of day blinding us in our mirror
This cruel life makes our youth
All too brief and beautiful
As we spend the rest of our lives
Chasing what is replenished
Without us

For Jewel

Time marks us so gradually
that we scarcely notice
the change it leaves upon us.

I am aware of my mortality.
I know the ceaseless march of
days will in fact end.

Inevitable. Inescapable.
How many ways are
there to state this?

My niece is no longer an infant.
She is beginning to walk
and use the simplest of language.

There are gray hairs colonizing
my beard. The settlement is
becoming a small village.

How much longer until the village
becomes a city? How much longer
until my niece calls me by name?

Our old dog grows older.
Should I envy her natural ignorance?
I'm not sure. I'm not sure.

Living is dangerous

Dying is safe

If we are not in 
the process of changing
is it not safe to say
one has died?

After the End

I walk down empty streets

looking for you and find only wind.

Afternoon sun burns my skin.

Nothing new in this dead land.

If I found you would you recognize me?

Gaunt face and weather worn skin,

aged remnants of the young man

I used to be.

Rays of light beam into my mind,

Irises constrict to a needlepoint,

Burning away a landscape 

as dead as my inner life.

Aching joints give and break.

I can feel the ants on my skin.

Such small feet pacing over me,

Mandibles tear into my flesh.

Waiting for sunset.

Waiting for sunset.

Nothing left.

Only this.

Of Course I'm Going To Die

I'd rather remember

my death

as an inevitable event

than live

oblivious to it.