suicide poetry

musing, between the sunset and the dark
royal feast was done
why then, must we see?
sun and wind and beat of sea
let me move slowly through the street
grieve not for the invisible
the earth keeps some vibration going
gone are the three, those sisters rare
blossoms of babies
fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room
two rows of cabbages
white foam flower, red flame flower
i walk down the garden paths