One for the Day of the Dead 
Tag Archives: Death
FAITH IN THE AFTERLIFE
FAITH IN THE AFTERLIFE
Burial suit
with two pairs of pants
Copper Left Her Laugh
COPPER LEFT HER LAUGH
Copper Love
her answering machine
It is in
the hearts
of a thousand friends
as she laughs at death, or with it
LIGHT SHINING ON COPPER
LIGHT SHINING ON COPPER
I can mostly buy
the whole spiritual thing
that she is neither dead nor gone
or at a perfect time
and to a perfect place
But there is
this hole in a hug
where she used to fit
In memory of Copper Love 1947 – 2017
www.copperlove.com
MISSING LEONARD
MISSING LEONARD
Leonard Cohen is gone
He doesn’t call, he doesn’t write
So huddle with me now
fellow worshipers and weepers
Huddle with me now
round the poem and the song
and listen for the breadcrumb
and the hint of old perfume
that speak
of other ways to God
than through the holes
in Jesus and the goddess
AURORA BOREALIS
AURORA BOREALIS
The have found Franklin’s ship
a hundred years frozen in ice
Franklin and Franklin’s men
cold, hungry and can-lead crazy
blinded by the glare and the glory
Maybe this is how
we should paint the ceilings of the dying
FORCEPS AGAIN
FORCEPS AGAIN
Science tries its best to help
nature from birth to death
They grasp your tiny head
to pull you in
and tether you to tubes
to stop your going
A CAUTION AGAINST TOO MUCH CHURCH TOO SOON
A CAUTION AGAINST TOO MUCH CHURCH TOO SOON
Brother Wally at age three or four
sitting on the tracks as the train approaches
wanting to find out what it’s like to be an angel
The last minute rescue
granting him some fame and slack
when he went back to being
the little devil he had been the day before
WRITING ON STONE
WRITING ON STONE
Pop Bukowski in his coffin
dead as hell
but reaching for one last beer
and almost making it.
Al Purdy
On the stone on my grave
I have asked them to write
I’LL TRY TO WRITE
And I will
Seeking still
some simile or metaphor
What is it like, or most unlike
Am I below or above
does it taste like dust or love
If I can’t write about it
how will I know I’m dead
How will you know
I’m still alive
THE DEATH OF A THOUSAND CUPS
THE DEATH OF A THOUSAND CUPS
Some die by inches, some by ounces
Little by little he sank below the surface
Each meeting less and less of him there
– a discussion without a quorum
It’s been a few months now
and he hasn’t appeared in dreams
or haunting our old haunts
It was so long
since he knew he was alive
he may not yet know that he is dead