journal

your father and I have decided we don’t believe there’s anything after death   you don’t go anywhere   there are no beautiful fields or singing angels   there’s nothing   you just stop   given over two years ago with no room for argument   this was a pronouncement typical of

poetry is a muscle what Leibniz would call an organ it is not an Eternal Thing or Idea although a single poem can last an eternity poetry is part of the body whether it is used or not