In December

I met him just two months before

he died of a self-inflicted shotgun wound to the head

everything exists in pain and imagination

and I am struck by the sharp deficit of human compassion

we have our objects and we have our nothingness

in our searching we cobble together false creation

two days prior to his death in the potato field

his hands already digging into the earth

gathering a few or a many, scattering a few or a many

acting out with more or less exactitude than a suicide

no one knows what was said or might have been said

in the face of world-annihilation

creation is a forgery

it fails to sustain, and it will fail to sustain

SM

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: