of a poet’s last days
are his final dreams
come closing in.
The train of his lifederails in flames,
the muse flies off,
he burns in his seat.
Smoke swirls highthrough uncharted space;
a white-welcome heaven,
his heart is ash.
Yet nothing is lost;what remain are the words:
And one day they’ll riseto seek shelter
in romantic minds.
(From the book Wilderness & Love)