Two more poems.
This one came after a long late-at-night discussion
of what one would want to say as one was dying.
I have a poem based on the superstition
that the last thing you see as you die you'll
see through eternity.
And I guess I must also believe that the last words that you
say, you'll listen to yourself all through eternity.
Last Words.
"Let us consider last words.
Goeth'e's more light, for instance.
Or Gertrude Stein sly to the end asking,
but what is the question?
Consider the fishermen caught on the hook of his own death
who saves his last words for the sea.
Consider the miner, the emblem of earth on his face,
who curses the earth as he enters it mineshaft all brave.
I've heard the dry sound leaves make on their way
from the tree, have felt the cold veil of snow
as it melts in the hand.
It is almost time to let the curtain of darkness
down on the perfect exit to say one last time a few loved
names.
Or else to go out and silence like an anonymous star
whose message, if there is one, is light years away".