1. Bee EmGee Says:


  2. Bee EmGee Says:

    (Apparently idiocy is my default setting. What I meant to say was:)

  3. Sirius Lee Says:

  4. Bee EmGee Says:

    RIP TD

    Ghost Letter

    Tonight the Chinese lanterns along the dock could lead your ghost to water;
    the departing ones need light, for their sight has already dimmed.

    As for me: I’m sitting at the edge of the old canal,
    whispering this ghost letter, staring at the moon. Dear friend:

    There is no one pitiable in this life. No “pitiful abundance.”
    If you saw back into this world, you would see me by the hydrangeas

    still trained to chain-link fence, where you first took my photo.
    If you have the inclination to look back, that is; if the dead

    are changeless; if the gravesite is something other than a way of having,
    in the end. When you were dying, the hospital chaplain stood in the doorway:

    she said we should be tending to your immediate journey; she said
    we should take turns sleeping; she said the room was too cold for words.

    And someone told her: Quiet! Don’t you know the dead go on hearing for hours?
    What might I have said? I’d made so many promises. According to one book

    I’d consulted, the autumn fields were set afire after harvest, to warm
    the dying, as they rose.

    – Richard McCann

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