Almost Living

A Poem

The great black tantrum seizes the heart goes the full spectrum of atrociousness on it Legs flying death happening and so many of those So many deaths and little deaths Far-flung events memories keeping such good company these days Or not Always the curses always the failing Put those mirrors up there I want to watch myself almost living from the floor If I see enough of myself maybe I can convince this dragging body to get up and do a show for the mirrors Maybe a striptease For all the toasts I should have been making while I haven’t been to the bar in ages These holes we’re burying in we’ve got to resurrect the ceremony and make the living again Reanimate the confiscated pyramids of suffering then suffering just a little more I’m already in my cemetery and there’s faint hope of getting out of it

J.D. Harms 2020