Gary Fincke: The Local Cemetery
Says she has purchased space
In the Garden of Dreams,
Which, so far, leaves me out
Patricia Jabbeh Wesley: In the Other World
Our beloved lay down and then eloped
to that other world.
Doug Anderson: The Gravestone and the Continuing Self
When I was in my twenties I thought old age was an island only accessible by a bridge I’d never cross. But I’ve crossed it, and at seventy-eight the subject … Continue reading
Video: Crannog
Alexis has a life-threatening disease. She spends her time in the wooded expanse of northern Scotland, where she takes care of dozens of animals who are also sick, wounded or dying. Some have terminal cancer, some would otherwise be killed because of their disabilities, some were saved from slaughterhouses. Alexis provides palliative care for them.
Deborah Bogen: Sisters
I’m the last sister standing — but tonight I mean to lie down, to practice being in the box
William Stafford: Traveling through the Dark
Traveling through the dark I found a deer
dead on the edge of the Wilson River road.
Michael Simms: Dust
The distinct nothingness of my life
suddenly seems glorious,
a particle of dust dancing in the light
beside eight billion others
Denise Levertov: Clouds
as if death had lit a pale light
in your flesh, your flesh
was cold to my touch, or not cold
but cool, cooling
Doug Anderson: Anonymous from the Han Dynasty
What a relief to sit by the waterfall
and let my mind go like this, each thought
a bubble rising from the bottom of a pond
Jane Ganahl, et al: Elder Women Speak about the Virus
Women over 60 share their coronavirus stories—from becoming a grandmother to dancing in the street.
Leslie Anne Mcilroy: Zoosk | The Pandemic
We stay put, apart,
constant in longing. And that is all
fine, my friends, except the dying
part. Death all around love’s
little sprouting head.
Laure-Anne Bosselaar: On My Walk to the Hospital, Death
Death in the fog, all silver
& grisaille as it wreathes
& muffles children in the park.
Connie Post: How to Sort the Living from the Dead
Forget all the nonsense
about eyes opened or closed
or breathing
or brain waves
Peter Schireson: Good Morning
Across the street, Ginkgo
sway in the breeze
like a gospel choir.
