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How I Deal with Death (a poem)

I fear it.

I embrace it.

 

I let it keep me up at night.

I poke at it with a stick.

 

I get skeeved when I have to

touch it and pull out an

old pair of pajamas to

wrap up my rat

and bury

him.

 

I abhor it.

I adore it. I really

don’t adore it I just

liked the way it

rhymed.

 

I hang doll

heads from my

ceiling fan a

shrunken skull from

my rearview

window.

 

I want it to go away.

I make it come

for bugs.

 

I let it sit there on

the porch I

shoo it with

a swatter.

 

I try to tell myself it is

the ultimate spiritual

experience and there’s no

way to get out of it yet I

 

still

 

freak out to think

I may one day

not be me. I

 

draw

cute little

skeletons

on tricycles.

 

Ryn Gargulinski, 05.01.13

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JOE: a bumble bee poem

beware of bees sign
bees

I felt bad – for a moment – to

watch the bee twitch to

see his two front legs

flail crazed on his

back jacked

from the cup

I had smushed

through his middle I

 

felt bad – for an instant – as

I crushed his bee head

with a rock – that

 

buddha stuff

says not to

kill things & I

shall very well go

to hell but it was

such a human

reaction when his

fuzzy bee bottom

grazed my

lip as I took a

sip of coffee & then

 

glanced in the

cup to see

the bee

so gleeful

& merry

as he

tainted the

last drop

of joe.

 

ryn gargulinski.02.17.13

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