Homage To Keats
This then
more words to Keats
and wonder where the man might be
sleeping now within his dark
or living yet in you and me?
With no desire of telling us
the things he's feeling now
or yes, it burns, the will is there,
but doesn't tell him how
to reach our minds so far away
thru vast diminsions come between
living now and living then
that we have never seen.
Or gone forever to the dead?
Whooeee! Then what's the use?
Of hanging on to our life
why don't we turn it loose?
I'd rather know him dead and gone
and hidden by a wall
invisible to our eyes.
than not know him at all
and hate to think that words and thoughts
are all he left behind
and accidents we are-----
turn out as tricks of mind.
(Author note: the dead, they are still here, but you must look.)
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