today the marsh
had a viking
funeral
all the
trees and all
the brush floated
along in their
frozen beds of
ice
the birds
sang in memoriam
and even from
behind the glass
we turned
our
heads away
i
wonder where you
are and whose
funeral you're
watching
redux of 5 january, riffing on the same theme, different ending. the real question is: will i ever write with punctuation again? the answer is likely no. here i go talking to myself again. goodnight.