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
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.
Doug Anderson: Death
Death is sitting at the foot of my bed. “Get up,” she says. “The sun is out and the horses are waiting for grain. Besides, love will blindside you again … Continue reading