He died in ninety four
but these poems are from ninety two
he had two years left
but didn't know it
I was two years old
and didn't know him too
sixty six years of difference
now I'm thirty four
I feel like I have two years left
or even less
two years ago I read him less
while I traveled europe
careless
and a single cell
a seed of death
began to spread
and if I had done nothing
I too would only have
two years left
what a difference
two years can make
I'm almost afraid
of the next two
but how peaceful he looks
on that garden tomb
in this internet picture
on this monday afternoon