Between the belly and the soil
I do as I do I am as I am
and all it is, I mean all that it is
(every morsel, every moment)
is my scratching out a, no my
Death Poem.
When I fall from thought and
fall to rot
it will be yours to read,
to sing, to frame, to forget.
Yours to burn. Yours to misunderstand.
It is mine to write. And every breath,
every step, every eyeblink
is my writing of...
what'll never be mine to
read to you.
last poem
jisei no ku
death
old man
lying in recliner
regrets
all haiku
is death poetry
Basho said
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