Burial Poem 2--41 1' 13.52" N 77 57' 11.45" W

With this spade
          in my hand I thought
      myself unusual
      mad on my knees, yet I want
             to be humble to rise
      with the thousands beside me
      and in the dust below
I could speak
              unaware
                   of this moment
   listen
         and create stories
      as lies are inherent
                              in my words
beneath a shadow of the thunderhead
     black dirt beneath my fingernails
          I dug the grave before
     I wrote
                 though the highways
     brought me here I waited
     for the light
                      the moment
              the place
     and abandoned the new
            before we even met.