EGGS: 'Zoggin''



This dying star
Mankind has
Come to
Fathom as
The Sun
Creaky wilts like the
Crumpled leather
Of the jacket of
A dead James Dean

Agonizing over the
Glory of its own finitude
Has such allowed light
And life
To bear witness
In slow motion
To the fall of its own
Icarus of Self
Vain to hold
Audience for
The end all
Be all
Operatic death knell
Of all knells of death
That die in such a way
Knowing they are dead
Means they cannot
Remember in procession
The creaky crumpled
Wilt-y tunnelvision
To total darkness
One or all will see
While still alive
But not for long
In tiny moments
Of infinities to other
Watchers on different
And Times
To the credit
Of The Sun
No one wants to die alone
Not even The Sun
And it is so hot
That I am paying full attention
With un-sunken chest
And eyes of fire
In body
And soul.

Add a comment