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
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
turning in half
half that existed
no more.
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