Poets & philosophers are known
To talk about death
They often do, actually

(Günther Anders had some good words there)
(Forget about Günther Anders)

What they talk about
Is not moist
Rather it's all dried up & dusty

Dew is moist
So is the night
The soil in which the beloved ones
Dwell
Forever un-existent
Un-bodied
Un-here

Of this poets & philosophers
Babble quite a lot
The poor little things

There's but one door
But then you have to find it
First
(No use in trying, really)

So
Back to the cunt
The cock
They frankly don't give a damn

They're moist
Lovely in a quaint kind of way
Absent-minded & focused
On absent-mindedness

How far is it?
Ah! that old question
Again & again

Face to face
With
Nobody around
In a sense
(What sense?
(Don't ask me

I'll resume this story later
I have other things to do
Right now
Or some other time
Later

18/11/22

(Our sloppy pomes series)