Crumbled names
Of the living
Grow green
Beneath
Smooth stones
Of ocean
Carried
Onto land
In vessels of
Flesh
Destined to
Dissolve
On rhythm’s
Ancient shore
And temporary
Eyes drown
As Nicolas Jaar
Cleans a tomb
He cares about
Because he cares
About the about
And the when
And the where
He will be
Categorized
When he dies
And he will die
And I wish
People would
Stop doing that
Without meaning
Or purpose
These words could
Go on forever
If forever
Didn’t grow green
And crumble
Beneath
The twinkling of
Extinct stars
