Sock Monkey Sutra
There are many ways to consider
the stuff of emptiness: the coffee mug
a window pane: what’s outside
the glass which is not
only figment but the fabric
woven across many
mornings many years
a cross hatched mess of scraps
to toss over some table or box
nothing much to look at after all
thread fraying the return to blue
despite attempts at burnt sienna
there are many ways to perceive
air for instance as breeze
breath wind in trees of course
a region above the ground
note to self: nothingness is not
to be confused with emptiness
People Who Don’t Know They’re Dead: How They Attach
Themselves to Unsuspecting Bystanders & What To Do About It
Some woman shouts at broccoli
you suck sister while over here
the man’s tube socks stretch
as he stuffs newspapers into his jeep
whereupon the brother’s wild blue eyes
freefly the narrow village canyons
skimming first person base jumping
the wing suit of his life
Attention shoppers gold in aisle
six says the retired psychologist
but who told the artist to paint
on black velvet without Elvis
and what about Brother Blue Boston
or the Kenmore Square scientologist
There’s nothing to be done take
their place call it home
