Death of a Poet

A poet's mind is all there really is to her. Scramble it and there is nothing but chaos left in it, no identity, no meaning . . . nothing.

The one who cries when a poet dies  is this:
A lone sparrow flew
From his window pane
Broken neck and all to the earth
Below where his mind was gone and his thoughts
Confused and insane
(His memory was incorrect to follow.)

His identity lost
To brain death's empty sighs
But his body lives where
It was found on the lawn
With blood in his arteries
But urine stains on his thighs
Feet, arms, torso . . .
Even his mouth and beyond.

A power stranger
Yet stronger than he
Was resurrected from hell
To carry his mind to
Where Chaos was tossed
Unto the sea
Where chaos is all that lives
Under God's spell

But it is said that
When an angel is dead
It so lives
In either nothingness
Or meaninglessness;
But what gives!?

Author's Note

My very good friend, or moirail UC Poika lives but not as a poet any longer he says.