Alternate Paradise
All poems hint death, though some
pretend not to mention it decked as they are
in bright intentions to make it moot,
but it can’t be helped, it looms over
every word no matter how light,
no matter how fresh and bright a poem may seem
it can’t resist death’s ballast, can’t throw it off
to set its brilliant balloon completely free,
to let it float over rain forests, wine dark seas,
the snows of Kilimanjaro, over sun-stroked streams
with lovers walking their banks in bliss,
over day lilies, lupine, and coffee with you at six
as still earth sloughs its gloom and blue heaven
comes with sun creating a more tentative moon
pallid in the light of life.
……. All poems blossom in the shade of death so,
……. it’s no wonder we imagine an alternate paradise
……. beyond, a place of mythic respite.
…… It’s no wonder we obfuscate
…… and tell tales of it to the young who then
…… disregard a truth clear and dear:
…… This world—this world,
…… not simply in speech,
…… offers the promise of paradise
…… only true lovers may reach
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