One more irony:
all the care that
goes into the stare
at death could have
gone into each and
several breaths.
There's nothing you
can do about the first
and every thing can
be new with the
other. Maybe a little
more meditation can
be mediation,
a closer look at the
close hooks of every
tree's tremble, every
note that resembles
every grumble I did
not need. What can
I feed to feel the
death of this greed
for certitude's attitude
north, according to
no planet, toward a thing
that rings with the false
nods of a false nod. Yes
does not inflame my
name. I will forget
my name in the name
of inflaming my
resolution to live
instead of teetering
at the edge of
teetering.
Roman Ryan 