THIN AIR
Like Ophelia
he died small
a paltry few to mourn
barely a stone
above the grave they circulate
unclaimed constellations
we have not figured out
let alone
found a pattern, given
them names
he put in the excruciating time
the hard learning
no lost to history, genius
savant
for whom we have to
concoct such a narrative
stretch creative fiction
to
its breaking point
oh that something so
miraculous, universal.
could be the deepest lie
complete travesty
where in our entire history
was such greatness
plucked out of
nowhere
flirt the the idea that
it was there for the taking,
be pulled
from the shadows
no greater alchemy
sucked out of thin air
poems 2 die for 