A Certain Death

Finally I have completed a poem. It felt so good to just sit down and not say anything and write (albeit groggy), even for just about twenty minutes. I am yet to like/dislike this poem. For now I do not care. What's important is that I have finished one. The last poem I have ever written is Paper Cup, and that was almost a year ago. I find this progress promising as usually after I finish a poem, several other poems follow. And I plan to be prolific this summer. Sleep-deprived, but prolific.

I find some inconsistencies in the poem, though, so I have a feeling I will want to hang myself tomorrow for deciding to have this posted here. So I may even wish to revise it. I am not sure. This could be the first draft or the final. Whatever. Here's the poem.

A Certain Death

certain deaths preoccupy me
deaths no less
abject than that of

fear --
that some live forever
puissant and whole

that others don't
and some resurrect
that others stay

suspended in one's memory
vividly
out of culture

or remorse
that others have not killed you
enough to die.