First, You Die To The World, And Then Poem by John Libertus

First, you die to the world, and then
the world dies
October burns

In a dark time, dark things gather,
want notice, die by recognition:
this one loves the fur that lines a leather coat
a woman gave me, long ago, for my glory, for the cold;
let the coat burn:
this world-wound oozes hustlers and hookers,
who snatch like a wolf, beg left and right, behind, before.
Who lives and dies upright, like a man?

Goddess of the evening, dressed like sunlight,
Goddess of the morning, dressed like rainbows,

carve like a pie, in slices, knife that knows your empty places,
beg of her latest, mercy on your soul -
let the coat burn

I've fought my worst battle in the valley of the shadow
I've done my hardest waiting by the bank of this river
I spend my time watching for the coming of the Horseman

let the world burn