217
death--
a last chance to
fly the coop

216
winter sun
I think I get what
Icarus missed

215
sunny winter day
deck chairs rearranged yet still
goin' under

214
death minus the metaphors

213
death
the one thing I won't
have to wait on line for

212
biking back to
a duck pond of childhood . . .
spread her ashes there

211
dripping
barking, rustling; one such sound
will be my last

210
Black Friday
buy one death; get the second
@ 1/2 off

209
Black Friday . . .
what the inside of a coffin looks like
at the end of the work week

208
Black Friday
saving merchants; going down
with the barge to China

207
3am to 1pm only
60% off your death plus free monogram
Black Friday

206
writing death poems
all morning long
my fingers grow numb

205
Thanksgiving
a good day to die
into abundance

204
death notices
noticing what's
omitted

203
today's obits
I forget what
I'm looking for

202
Thanksgiving
rigging the Mayflower
for one more journey

201
Thanksgiving Day
another pilgrim departs
at Plymouth Rock

200
Thanksgiving morning
cold hands, cold feet
am I dying

199
what do death's
footsteps sound like:
no other's

**************

do you hear
death's approach
I don't hear a thing

198
death

don't
let
it
hap
pen

a
gain

197
black Friday
how does Dylan know what he knows
death is not the end

196
rain all night
rain all day
I float away

195
eyes closed
coming to know the color black
like never before

194
not 2
not 1
not zero

193
. . . signing out
would you be kind enough to
dot the i in epste-n

192
tonight
I become a button hole
the wind passes through

191
that last candle
flaring out
is me

190
peaceful death?
odds are one
in a million

189
a better place?
did you get that feedback
from the ants and worms?

188
wings of fortune
flying me to
God only knows

187
next train to London
leaving on runway # 5 with
a stopover in Hades

186
last call
for the bullet train to
nowhere

185
wings of desire
won't take me all the way
to the moon

184
catch a ride?
only Satan's taxi
runs on Sunday

183
car won't start?
well then we'll walk
to the unpromised land

182
deep winter
this time it's not just
the battery. . .

181
disap
pearing

pud
dles

my call
to

de
part

180
look for me
among the bushes
where the finches play

179
today
with the redwood tree tops
I too brush the sky

178
shaft of light
I look around and see
my shadow depart

177
inside
the dying of the light
dying

176
greener still
the grass surrounding
dad's gravesite

175
death. . .
don't dump me
with the junk mail

174
death. . .
finally
decluttering

173
ants in the kitchen
who says I can't be buried
with an acorn?

172
November rain
washing away this old
sand mandala

171
death. . .
I'm looking for
the customer service line

170
I could be dying
but still she asks me a question
about dissociation

169
her head
in her hands
clear through dusk

168
turn me
for one last glimpse
of the sun

167
with every
harried step I take
closer to the end

166
spreading cream cheese
on toast brings dad
back to life

165
that missing word
I can't remember for the life of me
that's death

164
Others may have seen the following poem attributed to Mary Elizabeth Frye many times, but it's new to me. I am posting it here for those who have not had occasion to read it before.

DO NOT STAND AT MY GRAVE AND WEEP

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die.

163
November sunset
that mountain is putting out
my blood red eyes

162
November dusk
will you be kind enough
to close my eyes

161
haunting this site
my namesake

160
home sick
could this be
the last round

159
this morning
awakening to
no body

158
act of god
or natural causes
yes, please

157
loaded up
and ready to go
the old winged chariot

156
Day of the Dead
scratching my skull
as I pause to rest

155
Day of the Dead
leaving home with nothing
but this skeleton

154
nothing but
blue sky
the end

*******************

at the end of the end blue sky

153
leaning the way
day lilies do
dusk

152
the same way
leaves disappear
first snowfall

151
Election Day
political enemies at peace
cemetery walk

150
bury me in July
under the white sand of Carmel
no marker