i do not count their distance
foot by foot, they stomp
closer to the silly than the grave
but all of them are the coming dead

i do not recount their voices
breath by breath, they cry
silent in cheap pine boxes
but all of them are the nearly dead

i do not solve their problems
sign by sign, they reduce
closer to the dirt than the dust
but all of them are the truly dead

think, i think, but they can not
believe, i imagine, but they will not
love, i say, but they are the weary dead.