The Undertaking

It is rare for me to ever post some of my poetry, most of it being hack work. I write poetry the way one digs a grave: to bury the past, post mortum. Often it is the only means to bury the burden of flesh, an appropriate home to dispose of the rank stench of rotted life. There is no other way for me to live with the past - let it rot in words.

"The Undertaking"

I went to the sepulchre for communion,
To taste what is left of bread and wine,
And savour the life I consume tonight,
Or else pay tribute to rotting landscapes.

Something is rotten in this state
Of mind, frozen stolid, in limbo,
Too far down without a laurel,
Or permission to return alive.

I go to the grave, at my only refuge I
Sing Babel, my high tower of strength,
And death the life I celebrate tonight,
Or else pay tribute to living landscapes.

There is nothing remarkable about these words as poetry, alas, but it makes life bearable again.