i am the disembodied flame
written into the fields burnt,
but young,
as fecund, vibrant
organisms abound and surround
my decaying flesh
for all to see and understand
the passing of the torch,
the whispering of a dream
i once wrote a joke,
but i didn’t understand the punchline
so i suppose it wasn’t really a joke,
at least not anymore
i went to sleep on the 6th,
but did not wake up until the 9th,
and when i asked where the time had blown,
a shadowy figure standing over me
punched me in my face
so that i could go back to sleep
Fred Aiken Writing 