I was late as usual
not for his passing but his dying
all those blank pages, all those fights
dear friends all those messages
yes I'm coming this afternoon
pyjama jacket twisted bare yellow stomach his dick
hospital bedclothes how thin they are
the door is open cackling visitors in the corridor
"never mind, I like a bit of life"
He leaves for the shards and the floes
carpenters a cullis a rafter a turret
what is dying of life never known
and floats on top from the terrible joy
of his soul the scents the forgotten light
At last he recognizes me and says
reality is so far away
I guess I''ll never see it again