No one at funerals realize
all the unfulfilled dreams
and desire
seep and slip from the dead
into our lives

Your grandmothers corpse
a trojan horse
full of gin and secret nights of
unfulfilled passion

It belongs to you now

Dancing into the early morning
circling town drunk on the train
looking for an address that no longer exists

When world famous magician Doug Henning was on his death bed he asked for his old magicians top hat. It was the first magic prop he’d bought when he was a little kid. Everyone gathered around for what he said would be his last magic trick.

With much fanfare and showmanship he twirled the hat around showing everyone that it was empty. He then reached inside and after a long dramatic pause sprung forth his empty hand out of the hat. “TA-DA!” he said with a stupid grin, with tears in his eyes. And then he died.

Walt Whitman was a drag queen
who danced down at the Manhole
he roared the gay grape meat of his heart
all over the entire joint
six nights a week

The building eventually had to be condemned
Uncle Walts love broke down the mortar in the walls
on a subatomic level
a vibration that barked and danced
in the heart of all things

like fisting all the moons of Jupiter
on a Sunday afternoon.