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