When I take the road inevitably traveled
and slip from this precarious mortal coil,
there will be a small, unadorned funeral.
Those friends who will gather together
to give me a final send-off in salt rain,
pleaseódo not remember me as I am.
Forget those days when I was silent,
choked by the magnitude of the world,
so vast, incomprehensible, and terrifying.
Forget those days when I was angry,
confused and infuriated by a society
that I had utterly failed to interpret.
Forget everything, except the rare nights
when poetry poured crystalline from my lips,
frothing out in a stream of relief and freedom,
when all I was transformed to truth and joy.
When I slip, and plummet into cold darkness,
and you reminisce over my small tombstone,
remember the times I cried from rapture
beneath stars that keened sweetly from above--
those are the only times that meant anything.