Never too late to think about what you would like done with your remains 11/11/2025, Con/Jur/d 14 years ago 11/11/11, things changed the expected party, where you dropped out, looked in * sitting, after ABSENCE first snow, along with fat flakes yellow leaves, stiff, clutching move through air * startled by their SCRATCH across the green/black roofing tiles trembling, turned, blighted * Not like yesterday’s squirrel winter coated, deliberate glance toward your warm in-here * THINK: this will be the sound our bones make, if we choose to be planted seed/root rather than flame -- have had enough BURNS/scars this lifetime * not fair to those still travelling through too many rules about what to do with human flesh, bits * should probably discuss again, a rock with our name, maybe a date, to mark the transition out * remind you, looking in is always happening even now, with these words, see us WAVE, return the nod * THERE YOU ARE! we’ll say and there we’ll stay, for the rest of it * even the pieces big enough for rhythm SCRAPE, KNOCK, CLICK, CLICK BAM etc. * will become dust and then reused * origin forgotten
Much love,
Con/Jur/d, 11/11/2025
lovely poem.