BRUNK HOWARD


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Tombstone blooms

I lie in my bed

Waiting t’ be led

Through graveyard dreams.

Looking for a marker

Expecting t’ see darker,

Comes a glint between the seams.


Of people all around

All dressed as clowns

All faces painted sad.

All effacing that paint

And half near faint

It made me kinda glad.


Tombstones bloom

The words on their tombs

That live then pass away

Each speaks truth

With wordless proof

No need for them to stay.


Till in the end

Only the word, “again”

No longer understood.

For comprehension

And attention

Have left the neighborhood


To a mourning dove

That purrs pure love

And raises me off my bed

With the blinding white

Of pure sunlight

Not waiting to be led.