endings (unbegun poems, for david)

Sean Howard

and to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.
walt whitman, leaves of grass

just as some children think
if they close their eyes
you can’t see them.

absurd! & when
we close the
eyes of the

dead?

***

…butterflies, bees for the dying
king: lear catching his breath in

the meadow.

***

or webern, grieving for
his mother, returning
again & again

to light and blow
the wick of music.

***

…but esoteric? dawn
to dusk, rosicrucian

sun.

***

that we die, of course, but
the way the wind does,
leaving us in peace.

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