Reply to Emily Dickinson’s ‘Because I could not stop for Death’

break—ing point

only in this place
do you find Tulle and tiles,
only in this place
do you ever fit in a pit.

a song is without rhyme
a bell that never chimes
end is not near but here
end collects to recollect

where we live has air that leaves
to hold our stench of being alive
to rot with the fields in the sky
where we live schooled shadows
so—

take heed of the falling grounds
remember the breaking roofs.
a wall will stall and watch
men, break into smaller men
till truth tied on their tongues
become words centuries wrote

Ruddapoet