The irreverent musings of a sardonic wisenheimer who’s prone to fits of hopefulness and hypersensitivity.
Sunday, March 9, 2014
It nearly cancels my fear of death, my dearest said,
When I think of cremation. To rot in the earth
Is a loathsome end, but to roar up in flame - besides, I
am used to it,
I have flamed with love or fury so often in my life,
No wonder my body is tired, no wonder it is dying.
We had great joy of my body. Scatter the ashes.