Tag Archives: mortality

I don’t like it here

Free time doesn’t interest me

I’d rather not stop here

I will choke on the stillness of this middle of nowhere lake

do you know that about me?

it will steal my purpose

trade it for this introspection I have no use for

I am a runner

In the longest race

I never stop

to do so

It’s like waving to death, no?




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Cemetery in the woods

In the considerable patch of woods

between the condominium complex and the outlets

up on a hill

a small graveyard

we sometimes traveled to as freshly barmitzvahed boys


one body after the other 

though I can’t remember now if there was a trail

my friend Joey would have been in front with a flashlight

my hands on the shoulders of the boy in front of me


the graves were a mile or so from where we entered 

and they

bore the names of our Long Island towns

Hewlett, Merrick, etc

the oldest read 1789

in those days we were too busy scaring the shit out of each other to concern ourselves with history
I remember once one of Joey’s older brother’s friends
lying down on a stone marker that had been toppled 
I watched him light a cigarette after he sat up
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Immortality poem

I am in a room

a cigarette-holed tan sofa and cat-haired black futon are arranged against joining cream-colored walls

in a backwards L-shape

the coffee table is made from wood and glass

with a convenient little underside compartment keeping pristine horse magazines and battered New Yorkers

an empty banana yellow flower pot languishes on a small wooden table in a dirty corner

it smells like cat litter

a desk painted entirely sky blue taken from a soon-to-be shutting down local junior high

lives against the window

and underneath that the guilty litter box

a faucet somewhere can be heard dripping every 10 seconds

there are negative 2 TVs

and a fake fern in the northwest (I believe) corner of the room

making sure I don’t leave anything out

even the crumbs of the gray carpet

wheat thin debris

must be


how else to live forever?

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