“When I Die” by Nick Pipitone.

When I die, I want to go softlyfree from the miseriesof my body breaking downorgans sickened, cutting off lifeas I suffocate, drift away When I die, I want to wakein a safer worldaway from earth’s torments& adverse emotionsgurus say we must bear When I die, I want to see Jesus’ facewash his feet, though he’d […]

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always.

paraphernaliaflowers; the frozen nailsof Mars, lest I leavein lunula wombsto no death of our wormsand our licking wings;I’ve dreamt no morethan the coquette black rose,and her absinthe skin,wormwood, dead at our feet,to the insomniacocktails of phantasm,setting down the metaphysical poetrythrough my blood-flow, and the paraphernaliaof rocks, incubated with the skull-shapedhills; is it thenso ancient?the last […]

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