The Poetry of Brian Paris

No, I Am Not Dead

no, I am not dead
not while I can still think and dream and weep
no, I am not dead
I can still feel the sore knees and back aches
and the pain in my gut
without a center
no, I am not dead

I am still running through the cornfield
leaves ripping my arms
leaving a trail of blood on black earth
the earth where I was born
and will be reborn
out of the twister torn wreckage
I will be reborn
remove the limbs
tear down start again
and build my dream house with better plans

I am Brian Paris
and, no, I am not dead
I am a perennial in this annual field