Eli Simple walked into the lush grain
field; tall onions in bloom surround the sharp
yellow spears swaying in the easterly wind;
crows' cawing overhead the onion purple &
bald; cows graze in the green valley, sheep
on the grassy green hill; the last page of
Eli's last short story sitting in the roller
of the refurbished Remington manual
he'd written his bestsellers on; Eli Simple
would be mourned by the _ & compared to
by __; Eli Simple lay dead in the field
from a gunshot to the temple just like
Van Gogh or so Eli imagined death to be