how do you know
when you’re dead
I would expect
someone pokes you
maybe with a stick say
excuse me sir
but your rotting carcass
is starting to smell
why not just jump
into this handy grave
that’s it
just tuck the dirt in
behind you
see
now isn’t that
much nicer
I like the way
the worms feel
on my toes
yes
yes
I could get used
to this
Published in Open Arts Forum on .
I’ve been writing poetry since I was a little kid. I think that poetry is probably my native language. In my best work, I think that I’m able to create something that feels like truth. If you find something in my words that move you, something that makes you smile , something which gives you pause for reflection , then I’m grateful. I sell real estate from time to time, and in moments of grace or despair, joy or terror, times of wonder and gratitude, I sail about in my good old ketch , Further.
Further - a distance that can’t be measured.
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