in truth

the waiter waits
the watcher watches
the quiet one is still
these are the names of
the namer
who in namelessness
is named by those who have been named

the mouth of the quiet one has never opened
the eyes of the watcher have never closed
the one who waits needs no patience
and the namer does not answer to these names



the sound of death is bells
not the sound of dying, not the process
it's the sound of being 
the sound is bells ringing
unheardly, gorgeous, purposeless 
not a wail or wimper
not from mouths
but bells just bells
the scent the touch the taste
of lifelessness is not
scents, touches, or tastes,
not bells the objects,
not their odors of corrosion, their cracks, their ammonian notes
but the stark felt absence of those
in the stark felt presence of the sound of
death is


are you waiting for
is this all about
was it
the fuck
is the meaning of this
will happen

can it be
shall we have
do you want
have i done
would it take
is it
should i do

have you heard
did you say
would you like