DIE BEFORE YOU DIE
never far from the appetites of our body.
Our senses are ready to spring at the slightest touch.
We stand on the battlefield and survey the possible booty,
but once collected, it then becomes too much.
walk inside our flesh-case like a brush
a painter making rapid splashes,
filling empty scroll-sheets with the blush
of skin-tones come alive in lightning dashes.
comes and goes in furtive flashes.
Nothing belongs to us. It's all on loan.
We are those fleshly bursts like fluttering lashes
that open and close oil eyes, and then are gone.
we could see our real deaths we might die.
To die while still alive wakes up the eye.