WRITE ABOUT WHAT YOU KNOW

They say write about what you know

I choose death, but it could have easily

been life.

What do I know about death?

Is it the reason I’m writing this thing?

Can one know death?

Or is life just getting acquainted with 

the idea of death?

What legacy is this 

these

small waves 

that lap at the edge of the bed

true crime confessionals ecstatic mornings 

hurry past the sober sun rise.

Near a pagoda by a lake

bird noise from the bushes

iridescent despair slides under life’s gravity

unless it’s kept in check

chaos will reign

opportunist gulls are investment bankers

they inhabit the air with stucco violence

such alchemy such an assault

the pain strikes three 

a black noise is hauled across the sky

we look up.