Cold Cemeteries (a poem)

the only freedom I want

is to break my ego’s chains

which confine me in cold cemeteries

to the dead,

who rise each night & breathe fire

only I can see,

who speak in a language

only I can understand,

telling me with certitude

I’ll join them soon

& also haunt the living

(Photo by Scott Rodgerson on Unsplash)

Among the Tombstones (a photo)

This picture was taken by Rachel (who’s an amazing photographer, by the way) during a trip we took to Sleepy Hollow, New York. That was an incredible trip. We took tons of pictures, but my favorites were from the old cemetery, where we spent at least an hour or so wandering around.

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