Thursday, March 13, 2008


Thanks to Dobby Gibson and Dean Young I'm currently reading Japanese Death Poems: Written by Zen Monks and Haiku Poets on the Verge of Death. And while I'm not on the verge of death--at least I hope not--if I were on such a verge right this moment, I'd write this:

Two men cutting old limbs
off my tree. One last listen

(Then I'd die immediately, of course.)

What would your death poem be...right this second?


Laura McCullough said...

six people dreaming of apples
empty bottles righted and lost
who will sing when the noise is off
alone and singled out
for nothing more
than what can be polished,
should be, a temptation,
sin-sunning like an open
hand revealing what they, those six, forgot together,
bottles tucked with teeth-checked cores, some just tasted, others gnawed, and notes like seeds inside, first read, then loosed upon the fertile water
under which they sink

Amish Trivedi said...

not sure about all that, but I did read a book of death poems myself from the library and found the card for a therapist inside...

I have a poem called 'Death Poem' in what will hopefully soon be a published e-chap.

Alexis Orgera said...


First you kill them,
then you dance on their bones.

Eric said...

First Attempt at Death (Poem)

Right now? I never
was prepared for anything,
much less eternit-

Fortunately, I get to try again later

Eric said...

First Attempt

right now? I never
was prepared for anything
much less eternit-

fortunately, I get another try later ... right?

nathan eve said...

all these empty dishes,
gagging for lack of a better word,
and no one to stomach it.

Chuck Byrd said...

Oh, I can't die yet.
Without a final listen to Slayer.
I'm in the middle of a good book and I have a hundred lined up.
Damn you death,
I bet you can't even read.
Your kidding me, you like Slayer too.
What the hell, I'll get you some books on tape. Let's go!

tmancus said...

there is nothing. what
will there is in me closes
like a flimsy can.

Pete. said...

I actually picked up a copy of this book my senior year in highschool, along with Hagakure. I found it interesting that a couple of the poems used flatulance as a symbol for passing on.

Something Askew said...

to the cosmic dust,
around to new old souls.
spirit vessel now empty
and keen to feed mammals.