The turning over

I knew it would happen
at some point; we were all
bound to accept.
There were so many of us
holdouts
from the turning over
but in the end
we signed our existences away.
I am the last
to surrender
to the Sublime Red Cube.
The icon flashes, serene and assured.
Soon nothing else will exist.
The multitude have become two
Me and It
I extend my arm
and with one quivering index finger,
press "Submit"

a piece of afternoon

a piece of afternoon
Sufjan Stevens' song for his departed mom
sad and sublime
are always welcome
tears are green gems
pierce the heart as well as the throat
sorrow is such sweet fodder

we live in light
trees breathe
we follow suit
no one sees
how this music
will save us

Awakened Cafe

She lies on the floor of the coffee shop
Eyes closed, intent on some imagined object
Lips moving slightly, silently

The head barista clears the crowd surrounding her
Kneels and taps her shoulder
She opens one eye
And asks him what he wants

He asks if she is alright
She says she is
She just realized a moment ago
While she was sipping her tea
She is in a dream
She is trying to wake herself

Deciding she is harmless
The manager leaves her,
Asking the patrons to go back to their conversations

A quarter of an hour passes
People step over her body
To stand in line for refills
Or to get to the restroom

It is then, she sits up, eyes wide open
Laughing delightedly, scanning the room
Taking in the storefront windows
With the light diving through
The potted plants
The plodding customers
The awakened café
A gem in the crown
Of a living Universe

meditation hall bathroom graffiti

trying to stop
your mind from thinking
like trying to stop
a skunk from stinking
rushing after
your mind's creations
like cerebral,
genital self-stimulation

all of these things
we do with our minds
all to increase, accentuate
find
pleasure, love
and happiness
all will bring us
precisely less

autumn warm

autumn warm
blue day, grey day
wants to rain
inner heart bloom
in its sad surroundings
a tree sheds its burdens

daily I wreck

daily I wreck

the machine I drive

a corpse alive

a Self inside

witness calm

chest to palm

peace, the prize

compromise

When up is down

The difficulty
When up is down
Is keeping the shit
In the toilet

By the same token,
It’s hard to keep the laughter
In your chest