Sunday, 1 November 2009


All Saints’ Day
Saves my soul from wandering
Too far from
Its carcass,
Strewn funeral like along the couch,
Wherein my mind crouches
From the honourable
Turn of the world,
And its external journeys,
Which do not wish my spirit yet,
And sentence it to
One more revolution at least
Inside the meat of me.

It’s not worthy of walking the
Tread to heaven,
Or taking hell’s elevator,
Not today, good sir,
Not in its current state:
Hounded by the physical effects
Of my psyche’s desires
To the extent that poor ventilation
Suffers it to exhaustion,
And it begs for an exit,
But, as the rest of me, the best of me
Will have to stay and
See this day through.

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