Danny Whirlow, C’21
I am a thanatologist.
On these cliffs I study, contemplate.
The wisping air has pulled me off path
Again,
Itself a strait weathered by
Other wayward souls.
My plodding stops and I look out over
The misty water. The only thing distinguishing it
From the gray skies is its turbulence. Below,
Rocks rise out like fingers attached
To a massive hand, entreating me to take hold
And slip below the waves.
At the edge, I am no more courageous if I step forward
Than if I step back.
Generation 