is my wont
I sit here
just studying these obituaries
from Sunday (whose paper lasts cheap me all week)
keeping up with what
does whom to death. As
a rule, your eminent heart surgeon
cancer, but once in a while the gifted shrink
kill her schizophrenic
self. Butchers get slaughtered, hunters
shot, lawyers flogged to death by writs.
Live by the sword,
by the inch of solid
luminous meter of guaranteed steel.
Snakes do breakfast on
you’ll never guess how Fireball Roberts went.