Tuesday, August 11, 2020

A Society of Buddhist Hoodlum

We think we see her run into unexpurgated dawn:
striated sapphire sky, bold sun above the breeze –
but she sees cold integuments of existential brawn
beneath and far beyond supposed microbial realities
of viruses to wholly different dimensions – as teasing
and unholy as the myriad of other realms it underlies:
she’s absolutely riveted by how profoundly pleasing
it is that the final truth she’s gotten to is a disguise.
As solo monitor of A Society of Buddhist Hoodlum
she can state with thrilling new authority, “I am.”
But what could sate her, constitute the good from
finding all this shameless infinite variety of sham?
Leaning on the dictionary definition of a verb
or noun, you will go down: all “is” is, is “seems.”
Blast assertions! How to make them not disturb?
Aha! She finds it’s easy. Run over them like dreams.

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