In unconscious grouchiness
Sometimes you fall through the ice
to the bottom of the pond
Other times you’re in a faraway city
like Austin or L.A.
Each time you’re majestic
and forgivable, at least to me
Standing tall up against
the trunk of a silver maple
Its branches a bird nest halo
for your future heavenly form.
Death Poem
The desire to follow
that strand of flannel
through space.
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