Unafraid

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I've never cared for clothes

or cars, not one for hype, 

nor the fruit I consume as long as 

the belly's full, raw or ripe.

I wear the sky and stars,

and the ride that I hitch 

is the magnificent turning world

and in it, my modest niche. 

In the quiet of my room my spirit 

settles like dust on a bookshelf:

Philosophy, science, poetry,

bound narratives of the Self,

volumes lined up like soldiers,  

untested recruits on parade, 

with death still merely imagined, 

fortified and unafraid.