"He is alive and dead at once, defeating time.” — for  Marvin Bell

1.   The Dead Man in a Different State
The dead man likes the way the computer tells him the date 
            as he can’t keep track himself.
Since he can’t track, the dead man takes pleasure in his computer’s
            memory of today.

Today he’s interested in the mockingbird on the phone wire 
            learning to meow. Meow, meow.
In the middle of a conversation, his neighbor looks up, did I hear that right?

When the postman arrives, the dead man gets what he expects—
            phone bill, mortgage, PG&E.
Sometimes, it’s Macy’s lingerie ad, a valentine, a book his poem is in—
            but not often, so he gardens.

When the dead man gardens, he plots against gravity, dandelions
            and crab grass.
When the dead man gardens, he dies again.

Under the bark and mulch, a memory of peonies rises out of the cold,
            and the dead man throws in the shovel. 
He lets the lilacs fend for themselves, the wild plum, the Mr. Lincoln rose.

2.   About the Dead Man and His Hot Flashes  
The garden of the dead man runs low on vegetables and big on flowers.
The dead man likes roses—never mind the thorns, the mess of petals.
He likes the palm of blossom on his face—French Lace, Playboy, Sentimental,
            the endless Creme de la Creme,  grave markers of the grave.

In the spring, the dead man practices his snore. 
The dead man teaches himself how to snore each spring, thinking 
            he will get to know his neighbors better.

At work in his garden, the dead man experiences hot flashes and 
            discovers another side of himself.
Beneath his bandana, he discovers even his head sweats.