by William Skink

For anyone unaware, “William Skink” is the nom de plume I once wrote ALL of my material under. After transforming the name into my LLC, I now reserve its use for the more creative approaches I’m taking with my kitchen-sink effort at enacting the change I want to see in my community.

All that to say the following is a poem written, performed and recorded by…William Skink. Who is also me, Travis Mateer.

when I die of Covid
please dance upon my grave
I am gone--no selfish ego left to save
so dance!  you deep reservoirs of concern
you empathy burners
torching down my home with loving flame
and dance upon my grass like mower blades

is it all just echoes bouncing around some
insane god's idle mind?  does time snuff us out like
a movie starring Sam, or are there signs?
like the little insect saying HERE I AM
while I write these words?

what, too meta for your DELTA eyes?  fine-
the streets are August crowded, smoky mad
and ready to fuck
or fight-

getting more problematic when the sun goes down...
indistinguishable night

man with the giant dog I met 
for the second time,here's my card-
if you do not die drunk on the road
perhaps we'll meet again 
with you outside your cups and prepared to act
on that knowing we commiserated over

until then I'll kill my dome light 
as the cops cruise Main St
taking my good German automobile with the snitch tech
home, confident the GREAT SPIRIT can
transform anything

after all we're only borrowing 
these bones