Heaven? You would bat your eyes at Death as though some lightened form
Preserves against a worméd state- yet still expect to have ye flesh disposed of
In an ugly stomach; and this to me is eternity, for I make no company with an identity
So powerfully as flesh- 'tis all I know of me. Spirit? Flesh.
S. T. Brant is a high school teacher in Las Vegas. They have poems in La Piccioletta Barca, RIC, Cathexis Northwest Press, and forthcoming in After the Pause. You can find him on twitter @terriblebinth. He isn't photographed a lot, so this author photo is the best he could do.
Write something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview.