are you dying   I am dying   say the stars

which are dying   but we won’t be

invited to any funerals   my god

I love complex systems   I’d love

to marry you in medieval times

back then the sisters of hildegard von bingen

did it young  we are young but also

we are dying   and despite the winter

we live in new england

where transcendentalism and radioshack

are dying  where the future is living

where my mother is eating

acorn squash and watching

house hunters   my god

the room is full of quivering

atoms which will touch me

if you touch me   yes

you are warm you ignite

me as I’ve observed

from my lighthouse

on every coast  

when splendor arrives

in a tiny boat   my god

you’d better get in