Cancer Patient

The beautiful sound of the rain
in the middle of the night.

Awake and asleep, light and dark, life and death.

A beautiful abstract painting—because life
is no longer real.

The soft touch of those painted flowers.

The dazzling NYC skyline—but right below:
a lonely street with figures known as
pedestrians.

The time it takes for the seconds to turn into minutes.

Life—out of which poetry is made—and death.

The Funeral of Tom

Listen, that isn't Tom over there

lying in stately repose; no,

he didn't look like that

he didn't look like that heap of bones when he was asleep; no,

he gave the impression, like the rest of us,

of panting death—not like that crusted image

with its worn smile that we're somehow drawn to

like idol worshippers glancing over their shoulders...