Laughter
When she laughs, it’s an odd cackle,
loud and vulgar.
Even the air feels violated
for being exposed to it.
When she walks, you will hear the
industrial age cough and choke.
When she spits onto the ground
time flies by,
and nobody notices.
O’ beautiful:
you sleep on walls, holding the thread of life/
haphazardly, with your heart towards heaven,
and your skin towards dust,
and you expect my gratitude?
Numbly she dances, nimble and sincere,
…I know this is her,
and not that violent laughter.
Communion
Intro: Somehow I am always caught
between Zen and my narcissistic self.
Stepping outside I grabbed
the wind and shook it furiously
in my hand; and when it yelped,
I exposed my palm and set it free.
Sat down and saw God anxiously pacing
these streets, chain smoking,
rubbing his bare feet deep into the gravel,
leaving a trail of blood where he walked.
So, I ran to the street, bowed down
and licked the pavement.
Swiftly, a bird flew down and whispered into my ear:
“That’s God you’re eating.”
I looked up and saw a brilliant flash of light….
The lesson:
Just sitting will show you more than
moving in circles.
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