listen dead
                     is a lot like sleeping

in the earth
                     where there is not

life and there
                       is wormness

there is eated
                       a faint uncolour

a body
             a quiet
                          a bigness

'cause livings
                        finiter

but dead's
                   unfiniter

it's a nice long forever where you don't rise but you do you come out the earth in a trillion spears of grass
you come out as a dandelion and your heads a delicately flared puff of cottonlike earthbreath tousled
and fractures in the breeze, lilts, doesn't cease and goes making more life
                                                                                                                                       and
                                                                                                                                                  dead
                                                                                                                                             wasn't ever