Spring Meditation

The morning sinks into sponge.
The coffee sponge that I am,
I go for a third cup.

Smoke curls the air
but I have nothing to smoke.

The distant nearby
hum of whirring machinery
keeps me in good company.

Cars on the road shimmer with doppler,
which sounds transcendent at the moment.

Thoughts are sticky and hang together
like a room full of flypaper
with no open space for new flies.

Sit within myself,
that’s what the dream monk told me to do.
I remember now, even though I knew it all along.

-this work will soon appear in an unnamed poetry anthology


Filed under poetry, published work

4 responses to “Spring Meditation

  1. I like this one.

    I’m a bit behind on Calliope Nerve but as soon as I’d love to have this one for a future issue.

  2. Thanks. I like this one too. I surprised myself a little here. Actually, let me get back to you on publication, because I actually (and foolishly) have packaged this into submissions for glossy print lit journals. I prefer the underground, but some part of me wants to try my hand at the pretentious literary world. Most of what people call “poetry” in those mags is pretentious word-masterbation to me, and I’m trained in those “classical” styles. Fuck em!

  3. Cool. Good luck with that. LOL, there’s nothing wrong with lit journals. My only complaint with a number of them I have read (including underground/informal) is that many are full of intellectual snobs.

  4. Yeah, i hear that. I love intellectual people, but not the snobby types. Well, I love the snobs in a compassionate buddhist kind of way, but I don’t want to hang out with them or anything. Snobbery is really frustrating, considering we all shit and die.

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