Sunday, October 16, 2011

Biology

for George

In this world
where nothing exists
where everything other
is meaningless,
one should learn
to gather mint.
Quietly.
Notice the tint
of the setting sun
on a seagull's wing --
white with a touch of pink.
Accept that there is no link
between is and was...
and -- every loss
is haphazard and free.
And floating, atomised
in the void
you realize that
the tragedy lies
not in death
but in its senselessness:
whether you are shoved into earth
where worms dance around your coffin,
or are burned to ash,
it all comes down to one --
Flesh.