Endings are just beginnings on their loneliest of days
we begin this comedic tragedy in the oddest of ways
a man, on his pedestal, preaching about Lot
our cases carry the past that time forgot,
filled with boys, and toys, and children's crusades
a mortal teapot
God's serenity, courage, wisdom, and disdain,
and the glowing end of the last, last cigarette
unstuck in time
These thoughts are jumbled and jangled as
we untangle the lives of American Survivors and
Real, Dead Soldiers
the war parts, anyway.
pretty much true.
A suitcase spine collapses under the madness of marching drums
and her head spills it's contents over the stark white battleground:
A sky full of stars from the train car,
Flying through the ground,
And a housefire.
And so on
and so on
and so on until there's no one left to wonder
if the accident will
if time permits
if she has died four times over, what life is there left for me to live?
Then perhaps life is not the last great enemy,
and death's opposite is