Mourning for Dylan

"After the first death, there is no other."
Least not for the daughters and sons wrapped
gently by earth's cool cocoon

Those left near the mounds, gaunt and quiet,
return time again, sinful and sorry, angry
at the fury of life, the rate at which it burns.

Theirs are guilty deaths of continuation, a chalice
of blood and fire, sustenance for fornication,
vigor and nightly schemes. Yet, here, among grassy

Fields and weeping angels, a silent empty penance
must be paid. While corpses rot below, they murmur
supple hopes and fumble with shadows, knowing deaths

To come, least not their own. No, Dylan, your first
death was far before the grave. Mourning is a pause
and timid acceptance of the many deaths yet to come

Least not your own.

Comments

Letter

Representative Murkowski, Greetings from Juneau, Alaska! This is Forest Kvasnikoff. I am a young, lifetime, resident of Alaska, and I am writing you to ask for your continued support and championing of Senate Bill 1756. As you may know, in the month of April the University of Alaska Southeast in conjunction with the Hiroshima Peace Museum, the Marshallese government, The Leighty Foundation, Juneau People For Peace, Juneau World Affairs, Juneau Veterans For Peace, and a Seattle based educational program called Voices in Wartime, all worked together to sponsor and put on a Nuclear Awareness Conference. There were speakers throughout the United States including: Victoria Samson, a ballistic missile specialist; Andrew Himes, Voices in Wartime promoter; and Shegeko Sasamori, a survivor of the Hiroshima bombing and currently a California resident. In addition to these speakers, were guests and powerful speakers on behalf of the Marshallese people: Mayor James Matayoshi, Lijion Eknilang, and ...

The Thunder of David #68: In the Fifth Tone

No longer let our voices fall to a whispering march of death. Jam your baritones and inflections through songs for a god gone dead Make the earth shudder under your footsteps as you let the wind take the pages like a flickering flame Make your presence known through the howling sleet and rain - scream in the faces of distorted kings, spit on their robes and shit in their eyes Cast your fury like the waves and witness the smoke of god vanish in the shadow of a cat, feast upon the words that wither like the grass Smear the self indulgent prophets in sweat and mud, drown the child of the Euphrates and piss on his holy stone Go horse in your burning wrath, sodomize wretched Isaiah, suffocate him in the wallowing tears of Job, let the blood of your hatred flow like wine Drink of your consummate supplication steeped in rage and disgust. Let it sustain you to shake the pillars and columns of his temple to the ground Dictate your commands and bask in the boundless power your existence brings t...

Bleed Deep

old translucent green pop bottles litter everywhere filled with flesh and tears and hate and love and guilt and joy and rage and pity and remorse hurling black rusted tire irons and crow bars green bottles scream and weep and laugh and vomit and defecate shattered shit frantically shards of green in the lawn on rainy days a naked body haphazardly lays bomb it all, break it all a frenzy of life lived is a garden of glass that cuts you deep it is never greener so lay and roll and bleed bleed deep

Let the Words

Search This Blog