About Your Epitaph,
Quickly as began is over
Sun also sets
often before the pen
has time to capture the... 
Itís daytime again!

More butterflies to chase,
and daffodil hoops
to leap through without looking
both ways, it could go

like the poesy in your pocket
watch the time
slip away from you
and not so much as a verse
to show, and tell
what beautiful ages
escaped your artful codgerís eye
as it twinkled at some other dream

Your prairies full of pups
who know not yet the fruits
might still have warned you 
not to neglect the reaping

You have so carefully 
outdone yourself now
that you canít write
a decent poem about the living
any more than you want 
to hear about the dying
from the one who wonít
let go of you all night

You try to reason
with your instinct!
...and might be aware 
of how painfully clear
is the window at the door
to your end
but all you can think
is that you wish
youíd written more of it down
or taken those pictures with
you donít even recall her name now
but certainly that would 
have been more warmly received
than instead this
absent minded illiteracy

Too late to decide
that you cared more for language
or didnít quite mean
that cruel joke on the masses,
how you suddenly love
for the poor and the passive
doctors and caretakers
family and flower holders
not even the ones
you'd been trying to reach

The bigger picture 
has been framed now
and will hang as-is
a part of the permanent collection
alongside each and every
great tragic beauty
who ever cried, ďStop!Ē
at the big fucking train
rolling read carpet 
to the end of prestige

where there will be a placard
etched on by the ones
who didnít know you
explaining what you
would have differently
if we started it today
knowing what we think 
we know now

If we started it today
on young horizon
and love, not forgetting 
to honor the dawn
or greet the world with awe...
If we started it today, but

quickly as began is over
and at next sunrise,
I will begin
to tell the world
of your tears

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