18 SEP 2011 by ideonexus

 "Look for Me Under Your Bootsoles"

I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runaway sun, I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jags. I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love, If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.
Folksonomies: death poetry
Folksonomies: death poetry
  1  notes

Walt Whitman comments on his demise.