post mortem exercise . one

i imagine that i will get a desk after death

and that god will be a pretty mean editor

. throwing my table over . like a money changer.s

. if i don.t write the lives of unembodied souls

to meet his meticulous specifications.

it would be tedious and tiring . all that writing.

and i.d ask if i couldn.t be assigned to clean toilets

instead . seeing that they never get dirty.

there.d be no rest . because there are no days

there . and what else am i supposed to do.

perhaps i.ll give up writing now

. while i.ve got the chance.

i.ll probably just collect garbage

since there is none there in heaven.


in a certain afterlife

you keep doing what

you are doing on earth

in heaven

the writer writes about

standing at the pearly gates

the poet describe the feelings

the architect builds

everyone except the custodian,

who has nothing to clean