Life Cycle

These poems are having a discussion amongst themselves. A Last Dinner of sorts, at a long table, in a meadow surrounded by tall pines. They are drinking rich coffee, wine, whisky. They are wearing new clothes from the nice rack at the thrift store. There is laughter on the verge of tears, tears full of all that life needs to survive beyond any struggle, any strife, these poems are human and yet purely animalistic. Ah yes, once again the subtle apocalypse in the background.