1
i will try not to live
and i will refuse to die
there must be an option
that is neither either or
i will sip the acrid syrup
coughed upon my days
and i will call it nectar
if it will offended the gods . . .
and this is my life done well
2
let the bitter tasting moment burn
i am reconciled to my fate!
there will be no parades
no honorific specials on tv
no a&e biography
i will vanish into the dust
that scraped my belly
as i crawled through life
chewing dirt
3
then we try to say something meaningful . . .
but in that same moment we start to grasp
that nothing meaningful ever makes sense
and we find that we are truly alone
with glib speech fertilizing barren farmland
finding that we are left with ourselves
dutifully milking the sweaty night
for a rusty pail’s worth of significance . . .