April 12, 2013 (The Near Death Experience of A.J. Ayer)

I want the graveyard.

I want it the way

plants that are kept

indoors want the rain,

without ever having felt it.

So I walk through the hail

to the graveyard.

I walk through the dark

to the graveyard.

And I stand in the hail

in the dark

in the graveyard.

And I wait for

something to happen.

Where are the

ghosts?

Ayer,

you didn’t believe

in ghosts till you

almost became one.

Some come back

and say that the light

they saw was white.

You said yours was red,

and it hurt.

Who do you think decides

who gets red and who gets white?

Is there light at all?

It’s dark

and the graves

don’t stir.

I’ll leave here

as a skeptic,

though I was

a mystic

when I came.