gasoline

the world whispered to ash
while you sat blankly on the toilet
while you slept through sunrise
combed your hair

the last leaf fell

lord don't let me die in my sleep
so i'll at least know what it feels like

let me lie in the gutter, the desert
upon the mountain's crest
broken and torn from myself just once
while I still know who I am


Here we are earthy, we are proud, proud of our brains and our bodies
our lives intransient, physical, tactile, sensual

There is the monk who burns himself in protest
or the other monk who offers to burn himself instead
or the monks who burned themselves in celebration
    and which of us two is missing out on something

we are separate from ourselves.
these are not my hands, but the hands of the universe.