* * *

O bury me not in:in the little room, like a worm in a one-by-one padded & colorful, far from the madding birds ---

O bury me not in long unrequited dreams O bury me not in the margins of identity, voiceless & meaningless O bury me not in 'September Songs' in offbeat secret memories behind the veil of pride, under vanity's shawl

Are all the days the same in December Are all the days the same at noon Are all the days the same in the night

All the days are the same in never stopping All the days are the same to wake up hope-short All the days are the same day-over-day hobo wardrobes

Are all the nays the same into night, were day spread all over the bed, all over the bedroom, all over the bath, hot & cold to run

O bury me not in laments of stopdown O bury me not in the cold, in the naked cold, alone O bury me not in beauti-force infidelities, in lost address books, in the field response, O sands of years

Bury me dead before I awaken Bury me in the wind by the sea and go away from that time & place until they bury you

All the days are the same in timelessness

I can't stop wanting to live I can't stop wanting to die I can't stop wanting to love

Bury me at night in an unknown place, journeying blindfolded, at that world's edge, scatter me, remembering,

I can't wait to write another song I can't wait to work another rhythm I can't wait to dance another dance

Bury me out, among songs again, remembering,

I will write of you in the clouds I will write of you on the waves I will write of you in the leaves, over fields, from hilltops & rooftops, thru-out all hearts

Bury me not agrieved of the years of life Bury me without a trace: That my spirit is all, and nothing -- is everywhere it will, and still

O songs of dying me, be silent: Let my love be loved again