Friday, January 31, 2014


Like a mayfly, he would take
a day to live and die
but it would be enough.

The trillion-twenty-three synaptic
flashes which would zap him
through this spree would

so fill up his first and last capacity
for sense and sensibility –
the fluff and tender rough

of it -- he’d know as much
as he would have to know.
Then he would go.


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