"It's about words, and words are all I have…"




there’s something very undignified about dying

and i have instructed my sister-in-law to have socks

on my deformed feet   as well  not to allow any deathbed

tourists into the crucible   when i tell her these things

she says: check!  and i know that she will make sure that

i have dignitas to spare   that’s how she rolls


and in the aftermath  before the afterlife  no doubt i will

be reunited with my brother  and we will decide how we’d

like to spend eternity  (not in mexico bro)  we will likely hang

around to play spirited games with those who remain  how about

calling them  from our cell phones  deader than we


not funny martine!  as well  we will torment them in their showers

a place humans blissfully sing   unless you are gutwrenched  with

grief   then you dread getting in    the shower  a chamber  where

electricity melds with soap  melds with ions of departed souls

so that you no longer know  where they begin   and you end



stout as a horse  affectionate  haughty  electrical  I and this mystery 

 here we stand  i sing the body electric  has anyone supposed it lucky

to be born? i hasten to inform him or her  it is just as lucky to die  the

smallest sprout shows  there is really no death

(Walt Whitman  Leaves of Grass  1855)





Fall 2018  .. Martine! please don’t call me from heaven  when i’m driving..

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