Deferment
new life
in a weak heart
that would be glad to find
some time to go
Poems on the topic: death
Poems on the topic “death” on Poets.by.
Quick, dead
all the morning people
busy and mad
and I content
with being dead
Expiration date
if it is dead
it is ours to keep
or put on ice
till night
or sit with and get
to be at ease
Climate refugee
I miss my own piece of ground
under the sea
under a fly of the Lord’s
some thin cross
my mind could be like a harp
and no hand to suit it
should any religion call me
like a ruin of a friend
shall death and despair rule
or temper me
knowing the time to fall
and the time to age
to go sleep with the crows
in my hindered land
Death watch
burning but cold
his ear too far
for me
to summon
Grave matters
my sepulcher is repaired
by this summer air
it will have every safe
doubt and redoubt
and all evening to be spare
like a bed
Objective correlatives
a window new-painted
do not open
private garden rose
the language in a laugh
endless music
beating a dog to death
field full of haze
something broke us bad
dark door
he could not find his whip
our old candle
a way almost to be
Present tense
where the present goes
backward instead of forward
I saw her dressing herself
to dress the dead
this kept body treated
all in paint
with art
with odd love
In Memoriam
such a noble sacrifice the forest made
in its battle with the saw
it deserves no less than a full plantation of stumps
erasers white with chalk
erected in loving forgetfulness
of the blackboard
a stone tossed into still water
always lands in the center of a target
of spreading years
how well we know them then
these unknown dead
Last rites
my breath rattled
the pigeons went quiet
doors come to be great friends
with the dead
I eat my afterself
and depart into story
the coroner will be called
to examine my joy
Corpse meditation
dancing on my own grave
a foolish and simple act
I have met this body
in unmeeting it
a mission to a thing that can do nothing
for all its great noise
Consumers
thinking to alter
our minds we eat
the whole war
and cook the dead
our creature
aching to go home
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