Practicing the Art of Meditation

I’m trying to unlearn my body

outside of market street

Trying to jig saw piece

children speak.

Nowadays, nobody knows what they’re saying.

Nobody can solve the riddle

of

need.

While swans circle mark

market lake,

like a teacher’s scuff

on a students page,

I lift one foot

to follow the other

through a

riptide in

time and space.

 

Reach forward

my

rippling

hands.

 

Step through the circus tent of reality.

 

Contortion bad habits.

Augment the guilted tricks.

Somersault throwback words

prefixed to language.

 

Open your mouth

let

the

wind

of

all

idealistic

realists

ride the breath

of sad

autumn color; 

year over and over

stalling the other

into brown.

 

I meditate

while the homeless

draw murals with my left overs,

disguise themselves into 

the background

like Bohemian cafe furniture, 

like dancing ballets

of dripping window sparks.

 

They make themselves known.

 

Flutter down fire escapes

and fall like glowing eye

chatter

to the ground.

 

I think

Adam was just too tame a man,

to grace kick that finger

toward

Hers.

 

And this is the lesson of gender.

 

In the devolving canvas landscape

we might

absorb our lines

let the

turpentine sunshine

enter the mind

and hope someday

we might loose face.

 

Let’s forget the objective and subjective

murmurs, for a moment.

 

Let me just hug and become hugged

die and become dying,

Push my eyes together

so that the slow

dizzy drag of molecules

will seize it’s madness.

 

My body is a potential at best.

 

As I unlearn laziness

with a forehead pressed

against

a desk composed of mathematical

exactitude,

I find myself stuck

to the other side of it…

 

because I am the sand

and I am the hour glass.

 

I’m trying to unlearn my body,

but my backbone morality

wont let me.

 

It says, just become this or that

anything but

the inhumane.

and I say back

without imagination

just for a second

without color,

you’d understand

if you we’re neither

but

for balance

for

stance.

Let me be absent

no

let me be

nomore.

no, no, no

 

more.

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