Dearly departed.


The dead come

to call:


looking spritely

they bring the best


of themselves

stay to talk,


the sort of things

one says in dreams.


Here, immersed

in life; corroded


by the years,

it seems


that death’s

a living dream


a time warp

of each reality


the Wurlitzer turns

its own obscurity.


The dead come

to call: they bring




‘’write them down

don’t forget


you are the words

you leave behind


in other’s heads’’.


They who are



have their new



not remembered



nor ecliptic tune,


but wisdom

dearly bought


from passing



that final


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