June 24, 2007 at 5:10 pm Leave a comment

 (I wrote this maybe six years ago while on a kayaking trip in Baja. I was so impressed with the beautiful white bones I found on the desert, that I reflected on my death, and I wrote this poem)

When I die

Don’t bury my body underground

in a box

to be hidden in shadow

eaten by worms

Don’t burn my skin

so that I disappear

a vapor to rise and float away

Better, so better

leave me in the desert

under a cardon

the vultures can pick at me

the ants could eat me

And when all are done feasting

my bones can soak up sun

and turn white with joy

of warmth and brilliance.

Then, when the moon shines,

I’ll reflect and leave

shadows on the dirt


soaking sun, giving light

soaking sun, giving light


Entry filed under: Poetry.


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