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Not Not Knock

Born, and Death sits at his computer
gazing out a night window daydreaming.
So many thoughts from his day streaming
while the disk drive, full pails, with calculations.

Another tooth falls from Muerte's maw
silhouetting a profile more sinister.
Key clicks resound, pressed by bony paws,
In minuet sway, away from his ministry.

From dawn to dusk while in between;
the parenthetic moments,
from dust to dust life clays to be,
as we bereave the torments.

So sojourner sun, 'Of the Two horizons', genuflects with esteem,
So-so for Death, with eternal amounts of memory,
types absolute mystery narrative reams:
'Sus palabras mundos, facturaciĆ³n, entre un nacimiento y la morte'.
(His world's words, invoiced, 'between a birth and death.)

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