Death Part I


The stench of death


sweet like dung


the ridged and bloated belly
open to the sun.


The dog's eyes mercifully sheltered from the sight of its own destruction
by the burlap bag. The flies leave their offspring to consume his belly.

Life... Destruction... Life...


What will live in me when I have lost myself, when I have no more
use for me, when I am gone?



Death Part II


Did you hear the news about Abidjan today? Riots and the new reconciliation government falling apart, three parties pulled out today. They are calling the president a dictator. Surprise, that's a common inflammatory name. Of course I don't know anything about the history, so I can't evaluate the situation, but people are dieing. Two men killed for trying to disarm police. Why would they do that? The news doesn't say. And there are many more. Why do we care so much about death? It happens all around us, people dieing, most of the time for no reason at all. But we don't get use to it.


Then again, maybe we do.


We make lists of numbers and never learn their names.