Do We Still Bury Our Dead?

Dirt and dust are staples for wood
that is rapped and tapped for days.

We find ways to be still all the time
so lock me in a box with all I ever

deemed to be real. Mine is soaked
and the worms have choked on the

vile fumes that spew forth from above
this ancient crust that is littered with

more stones than we will ever need.
We bleed and we bleed and the Earth

is dyed red with the clay that we lift
for our passing. Do we still bury our

dead? The height of a man is too much
so knock me down to level my spirit.

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