Θνησιμότητα

We’re all going to die.

The Universe will decide.

Will it decide?

Or will it just do?

Do what it does to our cells.

Do what it does on days

when our best friends die,
when we eat grilled meat on a stick,
smoke cigarettes,
read about maniacal politicians,
or lay down to sleep.

We all go away,

in one way or another,

forgotten in anonymity
after twenty-five
or
ten thousand years,

our purpose extinguished,
our intentions vanished,

weathered down in ceremonial
stone,

so some pompous asshole
can say,

“I know what they meant.”

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

Some Pass, Some Pass Away

Folds of skin
sat on a plate in a friend’s kitchen.
People talked about the skin,
associated it with this friend
when its vision was requited in their memories.

Eventually, most fell out of touch
with the owner of Plate,
but never did they forget the
blooming gore
of that Georgia O’Keeffe-like
still life.
In fact,
many are reminded daily,
when they eat tortillas dipped in chili,
when chili is poured atop a hot dog,
when they fall asleep in church.

. . . “folds of skin
sat on a plate in a friend’s kitchen.
Who was that, who’s plate was that?”


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

Poetry Gen 1.1 (Old Tyme Burger Shoppe)

you cannot surpass

the ketchup and skullz.

you cannot surpass

Ye ketchup and skullz!

in Texarkana, Texas

there is a place called

Old Tyme Burger Shoppe.

Both Brains

They let him go
when he was particle-composed and had died of
cancer,
drifting through outer space
they let him go,
the people’s race of peoples didn’t own him,
floating past nationalism and liberty
as cancer an infinity emulsified
the mortal equation,
the surmountable forms of gray ways,
child without childhood
you picked at these fingers,
the seven wrinkles, your chance to perceive things
but accelerating away,
faster than cycles of sun or moon,
with the forms and “words” of humanness,

standing as a sun-drenched field before a 7-11®,
in light
a parent kisses their child at college,
the smell of wet tallgrass.

They got to go to college,

wave wave . . . wave wave
the forty classes

wave, for the presence of Einstein.
The ports and portals are much different.