Waiting for the Call

He came back from the
Dark Kingdom reminded that
so little of death is
of the flesh, that the
flesh can go on and on
before that deeper demise
calls a halt. Though
sometimes out of that
deeper demise comes a
call from beyond that
sets spirit and flesh
moving again. But in
that interim, crouched
in the Dark Kingdom
waiting for the call,
there is not time
or motion, only the sound
of your own faint breathing,
only the waves of dark-
ness breaking against
the soul's shore, only
an eternity of not being
anything, anywhere, and
then perhaps you come
back. But if you do,
it isn't you at all but
someone else.

City Lights Bookstore

Ghosts stop for whiskey and smoke
I inhale their words