The Last Day Of The Year

                                

           in memoriam Carol Novack and Kerry Leves

“he told me that writing poetry was the most beautiful thing anyone could do on this godforsaken earth” 

                                                      -Roberto Bolano

The writing of a poem

Is problematical

As life itself:

Where did it come from?

Why is it here?

What does it mean?

Then it settles itself

Into ink, infused

Into the fibres of a page,

Signifying much, little

Or nothing much at all,

Or otherwise shimmering

Pixels on a screen,

In the e-tombstones

Of two dead poets,

Our friends, who wrote

Beautifully for reasons

Beautifully unclear,

Now departed to compose

In places we the living

Know not where.

Larry Buttrose

31 December 2011