All the Poets

Writing with mindless courage,

winning awards,

collecting rejections,

saying what they mean,

at least I think,

it’s what they mean, anyway.

Rivers flowing,

overflowing,

bridges and dams washed away

then the bed is dry

the sun bakes on

the cancers grow,

and we all die,

we all die,

but maybe not today.

If you have ever been to

San Antonio or Santa Fe

in summer when the heat

is everywhere and creeps in between the cracks

and dying doesn’t seem so far away,

but then its lovely there

as well and you live down

by the river and spend your money

too freely, but we all die,

we all die,

but maybe not today.