There’s a pain in my gut
Probably indigestion
Or maybe the first note of my finale
On stage a melancholy dead man
Eulogizes chaotic doodles
Spent life and ambiguous purchases
Our laughter echos his chorus
Nervous and fitful
Unplaced and a little angry
We worship in playhouse darkness
In this temple to the muse
The muse of muses: mortality
T. Weeks
(A response to “Unseen Buds”)
Life Immense 