Adam,
cutter of cords,
died giddily in a greedy gamble.
Fading intuition knew and rang the only knell,
and in the reverberations of that solitary bell
mindstrings stirred into mad ensemble,
seeking lost chords.

Death —
resting, maybe —
is this the time to take the test,
to stalk and trap my anmal defeat?
But no.  The echoing knell recedes and bares my grave,
I hold on to my bones and guts and meat,
forget this death like all the rest,
greedy zombie —
living.

(26 Aug 1974)