Duane Michals (1932, American photographer) How could it be, That one day i will say goodbye to all of this, and miss the lilac spring, the maytimes whistling on the wing, and robin's kiss. In the summertime, When days and evenings are in rhyme, you will not find me in the grove, among the lilies in repose, on weeding in the garden path, where scented sedum hold on fast. When autumn falls, I'll cast no shadow on the wall, or hear the owl's haunted hoot, high above the rotting root. When all is orange, russet, red, I not be there with you in bed. The day the silent snow descends, and lulls to sleep all living friends, I too will slumber in the earth, among the seeds and squirrel's birth. Who will miss me, who will care, When I am called and no one's there? I AM MUCH NICER THAN GOD It was last thursday, when David finally died, that I realized that I was much nicer than God. I know that I would never had let him suffer all those months. And I ne...
