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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