RSS SPIRIT

This is the metaphor
that had seemed garish, obvious.
A land of ambulatory dead,
alive we pretend, but not well.

And you conceived your demise unique,
how quaint, how demure:
only violence moves us, only friction heats.

The dead are here and now,
not worthy of life, however
meriting versimilitude
in sleepless beds
and trash strewn avenues.