Only the dead feel at home…

Only the dead feel at home—“My father’s house has many mansions…”

“You have to understand,” the poet said, “life is a rented room, not much more.”

Sometimes I have to laugh

Thinking of piety, all those down payments

For what is essentially free. Death is it’s own house.

The windows are open, late Autumn, rain coming, the old curtains billowing.

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 )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ 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 )

w

Connecting to %s