On Death, and Why It Never Lasts


On Death, and Why It Never Lasts


Lumpy red clay,

and the name



with yesterday’s date  

on the newly mounded grave

next to Mom and Dad’s.


I got the loppers

and the Zip-loc bag

of pebbles from my trunk.


As I clipped the yew

on my dad’s grave,

I heard him say:


“Not necessary,”

and my mom say,

“Who the fuck

is Edelson?”

Arthur Russell



I live in Nutley, New Jersey.  I’m an active participant in the Red Wheelbarrow poetry group in Rutherford NJ, and Brooklyn Poets.  I don’t have a ton of publications, but I have had a poem in Copper Nickel, and the Wilderness House Literary Review.  I also won second place in the 2022 Allen Ginsberg Poetry Award contest.  I liked your site and wanted to give you a look at a couple of short poems.  If you like them, you’re free to use them. The names of these two are “On Death, and Why It Never Lasts,” and “The Clockface Light.”  Thanks for your time and for keeping the journal open.   


  1. This is a terrific and fun poem. Keep that pen moving.

  2. Thanks again, Linda. Your comments give me a real boost.

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