Death of a Poet... Poem

in beading sweat - knee deep in murky water
i saw a vision of my poetry
dead.

it was drifting away
on a radio wave
crashing in sway
smoke of a blooming
backwards in day.

piece after piece
it scattered in noise
down through the pipe
of someone else's
verse

and then
was this vision
this picture of me
stripped to a nerve
like a dug out root
of an ancient tree

lost in the pity of last farawell

two went apart
and turned into half
half that existed
no more.