Watch that grave in the distance,
illumined as part of the always.
If the night's just right I
pretend I'm metal against Fate;
nothing ever touches me except
the casket's singing, teak and brass,
possess the body as it ceases.
Think of me as a friend
not destroyed by the headstone,
the view at ground level.
Hurt me:
every word manipulates
days like today.
Candlelight, a silent ear -
recite your
deepest fears,
mind a root.
Ask: you don't have to
be afraid. Submission is
part of the return.
In the distance, the dead.
Expand. You can almost hear
this last trembling.
Do you believe
in a dream
that wanders?
Full moon overhead,
mood a hiding place,
satisfied hesitation.
We don't know that
everything dies.
The day, sheer,
weakly revealing
the silk of
actions unnoticed.
To continue
into the spirit,
encourage trust.
Triumphant, the obvious words
right behind the hills -
something strange, out there,
the way we like it.
Personal mystery,
the mind a
mixed world, red light distance.
What it means, a breathless warning,
heavy with the answer.
Keep your prayers -
don't ruin this with
words, rushes of chaos
to descend upon the gravesite.
You killed
buzzing lips,
a growing sense of promise,
Convert to secrets
a long way
from the world,
the price we pay
for all the good things.
Seeking comfort
toward the grave,
I baptised distress,
impatient ambitions.
Blessed are the dead,
the Spirit with approval I
pray, call and response
nearly howls, died unto rage,
amen.
Play dead.
In the sunlight,
no ordinary resurrection:
now I feel like we're
really together.
Do you?
Jeans and a leather jacket,
this oration of a hole,
chain of mourners
spins and shifts. Hell prayers,
I am the hymnals, stunned to
sympathy, dark glasses.
We join, decent,
all this grief, to wait.
