Matt Flumerfelt


Bury me in an unmarked grave
with Mozart, Paine, and d'Alembert.
What higher praise could I receive
than being damned with souls so rare?
Let other souls in comfort lie
if death has softer berths to give.
Grant them eternal rest, while I
remove whole rivers with a sieve.

While they with pious prayers make
obeisance to the Lord Almighty,
I'll have cake and tea with Blake
and feast on lines of timeless beauty.