share a few of my favorite poems and tell stories;
and to never stop asking questions;
that I was an existential empiricist to the end,
our happiness and soothe our sadness.
how much I loved singing and playing
on my guitars, and listening to Mozart and Chopin,
Collier, Collins, Hoagland and other poets.
also lived comfortably,
apple fritters, apple turnovers, apple cheesecake
and, of course, my mother,
but not America’s hegemony, bigotry
and political hypocrisy.
and my beautiful wife, Marilyn —
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 will belong to you someday.
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 dying
and hoping to leave an éclat to posterity.
Or was it something else I might have said?
A cliché perhaps?
is revealed through what we loved.