Into the Teeth of the Wind
Selected poem from Volume IV, Issue 1
The Last Poem
It comes from a distance, like starlight
your last poem, and your last day as well.
Both pause to whisper advisements:
Kindness. Right Choices. Flow.
The last day passes
as first and last days will
but the poem
stays a while with me.
It’s not its fine
wisdom-sayings
move me, no,
brave as those may be,
but the feather in its cap,
its swagger and lurch,
how it feels so righteously
natty and you
in its signature clothing.