Thursday, August 18, 2011

twelve steps to the great going sideways

he feels he has insects all over him their little needle steps

new revelations of the meridians waking

his electric flagellum sexmotor will not rest

each pinpoint of bodylight has a counterpart

the old rooftop is falling in fast

his pets die starved while he sleeps

he shuffles down to the river splashes his head like a Buddha

who got up in stinking rags and realised

it wasn't over yet that the past weeks

under the tree were just the beginning

that now he had to go home and face it all for real

leave all this behind this virtual practice

leave these sotted rags by the riverside

jump in finally, say it all at last

Hi my name is the Buddha and I am a non-swimmer


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