the barn door is open

 N0 he doesn’t,

his death Denies
fragrance,
worships dogged
calligraphy, under
stands the drills,
forms an
alliance, posits
seeping idea, resumes,
and all the
while water
rises, reaction as bomb,
pity as trickle, the
tin sounding bell
of oblivion, but
the words frown
the possible, lyrics
as a thing
and you
say that thing
think singing
while the death
is just
death