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to
sneeze at
every death is a different smell
the ants invisible Malthusian
compost is was will be life
tree rots to be soil
take rodent if you will
its heaven is a nibbling off
cheese or soap no matter
fragrance like more of its kind
not me – I am at the centre
smell less a little with each breath
death Sysiphean though every day
closer by just this much
here's Tantalus too
you can almost taste
the little ball of smog goes on
(a colourless odourless monoxide)
without its solipsist maker
death is my everyday effort
still there isn't the remotest whiff
of what it will be
to come through those posts
to be decked with the laurel at last
Earthy! I like it a lot - feel my hands in the soil (so to speak)
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