Yes, it’s a famous song— “Unbroken Chain” by the Grateful Dead, a good band name as an aside,

There was on my property an old gnarled stump, it was weathered and hardened, It was aesthetically pleasing as d… but I decided to take it to a spec…

The moment you flit by my ear, my strings are severed, I droop like a marionette— I remember I know nothing.

Every once in a while, when my bunkmates are asleep (or at least I hope they are), and the jingle of the keys fades to the end of the hall,

Walking lakeside, I try to discern what the frogs a… but their drone is one collective… Diving again and again after the secret,

The moon lulls me as I wade through poppy fields, dragging limp hands behind me, catching each pod long enough before it snaps upright again

I know people see him and think, “Gee, that’s crazy.” Which makes it embarrassing to see him

You can get better, or you can get worse, or you can stay the same. But you can’t change. Nope!

Curling black from crematorium sta… tell me again the hoax of the soul… The cowl paces, pretends to be faceless, swinging silver and wafting saccha…

There is a stream of what could have been which flows on with the same rate and newness of what is.

Oh, Death! Two beers and I’m on my back! Skipped the shower, skipped the toothbrush. Just a film of sweat,

Hell came through on battered wings, and thought to ask just one last thing. That If I could,

One of God’s tricks is, similar to Michael Jordan, It sinks a three-pointer with 1.2 seconds left on the clock,

Hollow fang? Volcano. Cat’s purr? Hymnals. Intuition?

Therein are the spoils of sorrow, the fruit of hardship, where wind snaps and prevails. Death whispers a hollow secret and I still a shiver