share just a few of my favorite poems and tell stories;
we stop thinking; that I was an existentialist
and empiricist to the end,
are constitutionally guaranteed, no matter
what liars and thieves will claim otherwise.
our happiness and soothe our sadness.
how much I enjoyed singing and playing
on my guitars, and listening to Mozart and Chopin,
and my beautiful wife, Marilyn —
apple fritters, apple turnovers, apple cheesecake
and, of course, my mother,
but not America’s hegemony, bigotry
and political insanity.
And that nights filled with stars,
wind chimes and crunching through leaves
And that it is old age who arrives
unannounced one day
And death is the final costume we will all wear
and is not mine to keep,
because it now belongs to you.
So exaggerate right now:
before I died, but that you
have since forgotten what it was,
though you think I might have whispered
Beethoven’s final words:
from my other poem about wishing to die
but after leaving an éclat to posterity.
Or was it something else I said?
A cliché perhaps?
is revealed through what we have loved.