It’s an
odd comfort
that it is
always raining somewhere
Old watering cans
collecting water
Tawny pines
lofty, sighing in the mist.

When my bones
are laid out
like a picket fence
in a wooden coat
they will drink
with the roots
and stone
and earth.

And when I am but
dust or atoms it will still rain
maybe I will be bricks
in a building
or some tarmac slab
something functional
or a peony flower
or even forget-me-nots
it will still rain
and I will be gone.

IPad,
IPod,
IPhone,
I'm alone.

They prescribe me three pills and then they make it four,
training me to be a pill popping *****.
My mind is in knots, I cannot cease my thoughts.
Six feet under in a box may I rot.

Blind is the eye
That does not look at the blind
Deaf is the ear
That does not listen to the deaf
Dumb is the mouth
That does not speak to the dumb
Lame is the leg
That does not step with the lame
Poor is the land
That does not care for the poor
Futile is the life
That does not support the needy