Advice for the Living

              Who will offer advice to the living?


There are those who write in fanciful script:

they mistake surface meaning

for music,


misapprehend, fail

to understand: you must accommodate clarity

before courting light.


Don’t externalize pain. In this wintry landscape,

     glint in ice and snowdrifts, frost

     splaying fractals, red saplings

     weathering asperity,

everything is already in flames.


Who will claim your keening heart? The cold air

invoking a hyper-lucidity of senses.


When the dead depart, they leave a wake behind them.

Clutched, in engram, indelible, each to each.


Some days are impossible: the moon in its ambit

destroys you.