“a purposeful way of being dead”
To find a purposeful way of being dead
is more difficult than Socrates’
dictum to know yourself. Life’s
purpose is simple compared to
finding yourself in death. Today
I went to work and talked
about Macbeth and his desire
to be more than who he was to be,
then drove home to peel shrimp for dinner.
Now I slowly work out this poem thinking
of reasons to want to write another one:
beyond this moment, beyond this life,
as if the purposes of the present unfold
with a clarity for just anyone to see.