30.8.12

these little songs are like funeral flowers



Dear Pile of Firewood,

whose funeral
would you fly to
from anywhere?
It's a question that has been on my mind.
Sadly, I have a hard time separating
that from speculation
as to who will next
create the opportunity.

I spent a time surrounded by friends.
der abgang ist der zahl.
as life, thrill, and fighting fear were pinnacled,
I recall, you held me after our class
to yell at me for carving
what i saw as life into the top of my hand.

i laughed, as children know to do
and reassured you that i would not drink the Kool-aid.

"No, Brickfoot," you said,
"You do not understand;
You are the Kool-aid."


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