When I die
I don't want it to be
In a grand olde room
Surrounded by children
...
A body yoked upon itself
Assaulted mind that yields and spread
Another day I wait for you
Another night I pray for you
...
I'll show you your crypt
Then your perilous days
Clutch your querulous nights
Cross life's binding ukase
...
There's a white room
A pallor so densely pale
It burns the flesh more than the eyes
All the pure hearts
...
Bye Gatsby
When I die
I don't want it to be
In a grand olde room
Surrounded by children
And children's children
I want to be in an ocean
Night time black
Naked and warm
Thinking of lovers, my bedded darlings
Thinking of books, my Prousts and Kerouacs
I want my life to ebb and flow
From me
To the dark blue sea
Borne back
Ceaselessly into places of yours and mine