REVERIE
The stretch of new section, right there, along the
graveyard I pass each day. Footloose me, walking
by, watching the dawn cut the sky. Stone
after stone, enscribed, names and dates, places,
references. Everything one needs but doors.
Wasn't it Sartre who wrote 'Hui Clos' - No Exit?
There but for the grave of God go I; there but
for fortune...and all the rest. I (really) just can't
stop to care. Life is going, Life is here.
-
I heard an owl once, perched and single.
It looked down and spat mice bones at
me. Nothing good about that. I figured
for nothing at all. By then the shadows
were gone, the lamp-lit sky was over
by sun-up, and so was I.
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