bury me in a sandbox somewhere in suburbia

bury me in a sandbox somewhere in suburbia

beneath the cornflower ceiling spackled across the divide

and divvy up my insides,

                     to place them in funeral vases;

that I might flower and find quiet

                   in the folds of tomorrow’s virginal hymn

reverberating lotus sutra expanding

                   through my intellect

to stand erect like a sunflower, and face East

                   to swallow the fire. Let it burn out your retinas,

that you may(be) able to see clearly once more.