The Ravenous Things

Van Gogh lied.
He never painted
the sunflowers
as he last saw them,
honestly,   looking up
from underneath,
down on the earth,
bullet in his chest,
within shadows they cast
in their pointless
multitudes, as they tossed
their heads in blue
above, greedy
to eat as much
of the sun
as they selfishly
could.

How Will You Ever Get Out of This?

Well, there’s a roughly one in three hundred chance
you’ll die by a bullet in an assault.
It’s one in a hundred your own hand
will get there first. Suicide trumps the gun.
Beware of dog? Beware of others. Beware yourself.
Your chances of winning the biggest lottery
are well over ten million to one.
Have a nice day. Be kind and careful with others,
and especially yourself.