The universe is mostly empty space.
I only felt a ghost once in a strange
hotel room. It plucked the sheets. A light snapped,
something shook, and it was gone. Remember that
death takes no pleasure in this. He wears black,
the color of mourning. I get cynical
enough to laugh, if only to defend
against rage. The Buddhist says, “Take a seat.
It is better to be a plant.” I am
not a fucking tree. I want to feel it
all. I’ve never danced, really, but I mosh,
hurl my head like a hammer, celebrate
wordless noise because that is what we are.
#finalpoem from Benjamin Allocco
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