Tagged: ghost

Postmortem, Post modern


I was once buried

in the cemetery at the top of the hill

but erosion has wiped away fallen comrades,

and through the general disintegration of time

Neither I, nor my headstone is worthy

of my Terra sanctuary.

They gathered around my grave

a site of Carnival, the beers passed around the tombstone.

Old friends pay their respect by day,

and the teens know how to tango

in the early morning

dancing from headstone to headstone

sunrise spotlight on macabre stage.

Now even the vandals don’t come around anymore.

The house cat, bronze iris and black pawed,

traces it’s way around my burying ground

The senorita, margarita in painted face,

hold my holiest of days

and the children tire of my wandering fingers

who knew the body

would be the vehicle

ensnared and tangled

caught in eternal flame

to imprison their manifestation

to imprison the soul.

Though I was never baptized I have known the ceilings of heaven

though I’ve committed no great sin

I know the delusions of hell

They don’t tell you that it’s in the air

just under our noses

where we couldn’t possibly have seen it

 we couldn’t have guessed


Writing My Ticket


The Ouija board

Spells it out for me

“keep writing”

But always

I’ll choose to ignore the signs

Falling from my tower

Death still seems

Something miniscule

A woman pushing an

Infant in a stroller

On the far side of town

I want to see

Her walking away

But last week

She was on the

other side of the state

to see what’s in her carriage

the tree sap trickle

of a disparaging growth

into survival

snuffed out

among the leaves