WEBVTT

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There Is No Reason Why
Not To Look at Death.

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There is no reason why
not to look at death.

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A good poem also, is
also death-contained.

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I once pulled out all the
business feathers of a crow.

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He became better,
godcomplete black.

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Nothing makes barely looking
haste to put away the dead--

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except the dead involved--

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in business.

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The Earth, the
seasons, the poets,

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before they become
poets, make no haste

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to put away the dead, nor God.

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The Lord giveth, and he
taketh away, by and large,

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slowly and without haste.

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Crow-bombs are here.

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Not my concern,
nor ordinary bombs,

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but plain decay,
the proper autumnal

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process subsequent to life.

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Emphasis need not be
placed upon the soul.

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My point involves the
leaf, as an example,

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and the unplumaged crow.

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Nor is my point one with flesh
and no blood, but one of death.

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I am fond of dead and/or
the self-contained.

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This poem may not be
said to be about souls,

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but of things, feathers
and leaves, leafless trees

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and the featherless
bodies of crows.

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Finally, let us say, I have
been asked to write simply.

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[APPLAUSE]

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