Thursday, September 6, 2007
Five Poems on Death
Death returns: it establish no resting place;
I saw it in flight, last nighttime over the Sierras;
beneath the last trips of twilight—!
The condor's wings covered death's decent;
and semivowels now through the air in peace!
Yet death's tail-shadow go forths at dawn, to
go back at dusk, blue-bellied full—as
if it have swallowed a giant (once again).
The condor, the condor, likened to a fly in a web
decease happens no rest, only new flesh, new flesh!
No: 1949 8-27-2007
The Roots of the Earth
Death have a manner of saying Hello, when it intends Goodbye!
We beingnesses on earth's surface never really disappear—only
From the minute of decease the organic structure will change, you can't
hear it, it simply acquires foggy—becoming the roots of the earth.
No: 1950 8-27-2007
The Mystery of Life
How enigmas to be born a human being
—and then to decease as one!
To be able to rinse off those old fleshy garments
of bark and milky-clay…!
We are the honored ones—(you know)
given to a whole human race system—:
1 manus stretch to Heaven the other to hell;
the truth is, we have got got got two flavors.
Those who have not been born yet:
adult male and animal are not so far apart
(and very difficult to please).
No: 1951 8-27-2007
Dialogue with the Devil
"I'll do a battalion with you," said He to me (the Devil),
"I have detested you long enough. I first proverb you as
a child—then when you were old adequate to do friends
I saw you again…. It was you who worshiped my kinds
of sins—then you broke away, but now is the clip to start
carving new adventures. Iodine have got left one run down and root for
you—let there be commercialism between us?"
I said back to Him, "Dark eyed, tusk scandaled, there
is none like thee, among heaven, Earth or hell; none with
such arsenic Swift feet, like your tongue—dark as midnight
are your shoulders—face of a dead seabed."
No: 1954, 8-28-2007
Selected for Death
"No, no! Go from me—!" I left decease lately in her sheath
—oh! Dim it was, for she surrounded me.
Thin, are her arms, yet such as a grip—they jump me,
immoveable, and left me…cloaked, as in a web,
a cocoon—subtle and fleet she was, like magic, in her
"No, no! I cried, "go from me, I have got still your taste—
your scent, your soot, your aye—halt!"
(But she wouldn't listen.)
No: 1952 8-28-2007
Death Passed Me Once
This adult male knew the secrets of decease
(he project them over my head).
No adult male could cognize such as things, unless
he was portion of it.
And now he's gone, he up and left—
(just like that…).
Iodine called, "Are you near?" and he did
not reply me back.
Then at the end of my bed, I saw—why!
There stood in my infirmary room, the
eyes and shoulders of a great being:
He did not speak, —he simple watched
No: 1953 8-28-2007
Labels: Death Poems