Samsara

the rope I climb I have taken from the spinal cord of a stoned homeless man slowly merging with the flow of acid rain heading for the ocean via the sewers at times it's a snake or a ladder for dwarfs and ambitious ants at times it's a news stand selling old papers “we can only examine processes which are already in the past” the black rider says gulping down the homeless man's dissolving tattoos

flat-out broke
I sell my reflection
for dust

I will never die I will die continuously that's the deal of being and being again at some point I will have collected enough coupons to get the holes for the flute I carved from my right femur I give a pizza a sky funeral pigeons and gulls descend from the cake in the sky while I hum Psalm 23 “I shall not want” but I do I do want and it keeps me going and getting me nowhere

evaporating without grace -
somewhere there's a koi
with my name on it


…

file date: March 24, 2013



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