Death's Dust

Death was in a book
Death seems like a lie: real but not true.

Death was in a book
Away
Away
To touch like pages
But not my skin—
not yours!

I can still call your name
But you won’t answer—
Where are you now?
Where these words go
after I say them?

When I lose something, it still exists
Somewhere, somewhere—
Even if not to me.
But where?
Where?

Open again!
Come back to me!
Close Death.
Put it away.
I’ve tried to understand,
But I cannot read what it says!


Departed, not dearly
Sometimes I think I see you walking
on a gray sidewalk sky.
The occasional gum cloud, once sunrise pink,
now shoe-walked black.

And my vision is as perfect
as the skin at your temples.
Even the gutters are clean.


But littered ravens
dully claw my hearted chest
And pigeon coos
refuse to let you rest.

And so I fall on the sky.
The other one.


Before the Big Bang
Ferocious feeling
No time for meaning.

And if it’s quiet,
I will break it!

Red edges steady
Ready for chaos
For loss

What is the world:
A hurling hell
A hurting heaven
A crumb in the cosmos
Of unholy bread
Upon which I’ve fed and fed
Wanting wholesomeness

But only holes!
That make me less!
Black holes—

In my head.


for Stacy
Stay. See what you did.
Only Empty in the crib
And where your curls were.

Stay. See what you did.
Your dress and laugh
Gone to good will.

Stay. See what you did.
The monster that you hid
Is playing jump rope with our veins.

Stay. See what you did.
But you went
And bent our breaths and hearts.

You did not see.
You did not see.
And what do I say to Silence?


To the Low (and Othello)
Do not put out the light.
Do not be desperate yet.
Do not go in the night.
Chase not the stars away.

Pause before you cause.
Do not impose the name.
The Hand—Cur! Thief!
O! O! NO!


Life is just a little while
Life is just a little while:

Do not die—before—
With a goodbye.

Stay!
Stay while you can.

Life is just a little while.

Parted lips that do not speak
Hands that will not hold
Eyes still look, but will not see!

I kiss the cold,
But you won’t return to me!

Where do you go after skin?
Wait for me there
And let me in
When my heart no longer knocks!


Finally
Wait awhile, would You?
Like the unwelcome guest
I must suffer to rest
To sit upon my sofa
To wear my favorite loafers.

So intimate, too: the scaly skin
Upon my shin
Where You have kicked and kicked—
But softly, softly
Like one might tap a toe.

Indifferent to the corners where I put you—
Because I need to sweep, I say—
Sometimes I insist you stay
In the garage—even in the cold—
But well, it suits you!

Placid, placid
Often abstracted—
By the arabesques
That the dirt flecks
Form upon the lawnmower.

But I know
That when you choose to go:
You will bid me come, too.

You will raise those sightless eyes
That somehow see me
And pull me hard by the hand

That You demand
Greet you—
Finally

Out of my house
Out of my heart

Finally


Ending
The world will end on a day like this one
The sky between a pallid sun and granite clouds

Big-eyed waiting
Stomached hearts
Broken breath

Who will love you while you lonely sit?
Who will love you more than Death,
More than Fear?

What will your hand hold?
Will you choose words
Even though no one will remember?

Or silence—
Like the one impending?


Death Present
When I Die,
And Wake from this Dream of Flesh—

What?
Where?
Why?

Will I have Tears to Cry?

In Joy?
In Sorrow?

Or Nothingness
Where my Chest
Use to Rest

But Nothing—
But Truly Resting,
Wrested—
Now


Period
The smell of raw meat between my legs.

This feast my body begs

that I surrender myself to the dregs.

To the dribble of gummy red
To the drivel that is spread

Between my legs
Between my legs

Death.


Bearren
I had your name
But never you—

I wanted
but wouldn’t—

Hush, baby,
Do not mourn
That you were never born—

I could not have born you
to bear the thousand natural shocks
that flesh is heir to—

Oh! For a shock of your hair!
Your eyes’ hue
hewed from mine—

Hush, baby,
Do not cry—

Your orphan mother weeps.


Red Bow
If I lie on my Back
And let
Red rocks roll
Under my Neck
My Head pressing
My Heels pushing
My Body hard
Into the Sky
Letting the Earth
Pull my Skin
Back from my Back—

If only I can
Arch my Body
Like Heaven
Like bread unleavened,
Drunk with Blood,
And cause another Flood—

of Life! of Love!


Remains
An airport is just like before dying.

Your soul slips on the floor.
And everyone is there, but far away.
They might arrive, but not on time.

So you are alone—
Even as the sea with all its depths.
Even as the sky with all its stars.

You look for someone everywhere.
The lights fitfully flickering like your eyes.
And you wish to mount the skies—

To Heaven! Back to your Home!
Yet always the fear that you will fall

Remains.


Doubt
Were you ever young?
Diffident?
Or have you always been so sure?

Grown now? (Growing with me?)
You were not my playmate, though.
At least, I don’t think I knew your name as a child,
but I can’t recall ever being formally introduced

I just knew you.

Did you not know yourself, either
until you made yourself known to me,
so to yourself,
without a doubt,
Doubt?


Doubt—Not
O, God.
Please: Heaven!

O God, please:
God!

O God,
please, God:
You! You! YOU!

And not this faithful doubt!


Without Rest
Every night
Practicing for Death
Little deaths
Upon the pillow

An oblivion of breaths
Slip along the sheets
Marked only by the rise
And fall of a chest

Asleep, Asleep
Seconds creep
Under the bedroom door
Away, Away

Across the floor
Down the stairs
Out of the house
Down empty streets

Lit by lamps or moon
That help no one see.

Yet we rise—little breaths
And marvel at
Our hot breath
On the cold air


Observing Night
I observe night.
Forgotten leaves are remembered shadows on the walls.

Silence forgets to be quiet
and speaks to the edges of everything.

The moon and smaller lights
Shiver between the shutters.

Up, shades! Open, window!
Night! Night! Come sleep!


Night in Gale
Wail, sad song upon the night

Sing of a nearer shore
At bay keep the ocean floor

Rail sweetly upon the pale moon’s cheek

Quail not before the albatross but

Hail the steady stars!

For I ail if your call
Fails to sing me to my rest—
O, be my treasure chest!

Be my sail!
Be my shore!


The Light
The light.
The light.
The light entering eyes.

Eyes that look like microcosms of the cosmos.
The filaments of the iris: planets, stars, galaxies, debris.
And the pupil: Space. Dark matter. A black hole.

That which enters, remains.
Remains always.
Stay! Light!