words.
quiet monday.
missing manual. I write this with my eyes closed, as a suggestion. whatever brings flow. so i go with that, tacking words on one after the other. pain from here to there, free flow, freestyle. punctuate. warehouse music. downtime. ephemeral belongings. wanting. salivating over. plans. hands. awoke and made the mudra for warding off evil. this was not religious, merely a gesture of good intent. be kind to the mind like that.
thursday poetry readings, rain or shine. pain shines. I can write to the next millennium. they do more than yawn, they die. I keep reading. I keep boring the audience to death. I keep sharing my breath. I keep killing them with whatever I’ve got. each day. it is a quiet and gentle monday. I’m going to treat it kindly. a pain in chest and shoulder loiters there for a good bit. someone’s lost drill bit. on ground we spit. clear ourselves of anger, the harm we cause ourselves.
change. each part of you. do you need examples? I don’t feel like giving them. the hills are steep. that guy, that guy is a creep. creeps up on people from behind. you were crept upon on now clapped on, clapped off, the clapper, the dagger, the stabber, the runner, the hitchhiker, the outlaw. scene change, font change, food thaws. such an ambiguous host you are!
I’m a tired Buddha today.
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