Like watching a continuing series I can’t stop and 
take stock or try to watch earlier episodes - what 
is lost is lost, no time to back-track, must move on 
to the next episode broadcast; even in reruns of 
‘So You Think You Can Dance’, I don’t want to go 
Back to beginnings, just move with the latest in an 
old series - same goes writing my poetry to record 
life and attendant feelings, I can’t die yet because I 
can’t stop to take stock, to reduce the fresh young 
growths of inspiration to Japanese-styled 
Bare bamboos in a few significant lines, my ideas 
are still all curlicues and dreams, young blooms un-
ready to be trimmed to bare essentials or polished 
to shining hard surfaces, ice-cold glittering facets - 
can’t die yet because time will come to a stop and 
Take stock; impossible right now, episodic series 
of my life not over - and contemporary inspiration 
& ideas still superordinate quiet consideration and 
rumination - so dying in hope of experiencing an 
infinite series of being cannot be fulfilled as yet…
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Dying Eventually
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