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Afterlife after death?

I live in a junkyard. I am surrounded by Possessions no longer of value to me, But remaining, untouched, where they lie. The same is true of my body. Aging bones and flesh, Reflexes that are a shadow of what was, Limbs no longer agile, Weak eyes and failing brain. I would like to leave my body…


The words Arise in my mind In the middle of the night. They will not go away The way dreams do, Slipping away into oblivion At the moment of wakefulness They stay on, in the mind, in the heart, in the soul Demanding to be set down. I have other things to do.... But I sit and write, first, To ease…

Inside your mind

I'd like to climb Inside your soul, Your mind, and sight And see myself through your eyes. What do you, really,think of me? What faults and defects do you see? I would know, going beyond The facile words of praise That are often used. And, if I did that, I would also know The real you...behind, and…

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