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Sock Monkey Sutra


There are many ways to consider

the stuff of emptiness:  the coffee mug


a window pane: what’s outside

the glass which is not


only figment but the fabric

woven across many


mornings many years

a cross hatched mess of scraps


to toss over some table or box

nothing much to look at after all


thread fraying the return to blue

despite attempts at burnt sienna


there are many ways to perceive

air for instance as breeze


breath wind in trees of course

a region above the ground


note to self: nothingness is not

to be confused with emptiness





People Who Don’t Know They’re Dead: How They Attach

Themselves to Unsuspecting Bystanders & What To Do About It


Some woman shouts at broccoli

you suck sister while over here


the man’s tube socks stretch

as he stuffs newspapers into his jeep


whereupon the brother’s wild blue eyes

freefly the narrow village canyons


skimming first person base jumping

the wing suit of his life


Attention shoppers gold in aisle

six says the retired  psychologist


but who told the artist to paint

on black velvet without Elvis


and what about Brother Blue Boston

or the Kenmore Square scientologist


There’s nothing to be done take

their place call it home