Shtick

BREATHE

Tap Your heals
all You want
You can never go home.

That silk quilt cocoon, You
emerged, wings tattooed

and stitched, the fabric
of reality, string theory
is just elaborate embroidery, and

“everything is vibration”
is the vibrator speaking.

Behind every curtain
is a Kansas snake oil
salesman, gentle, wise,
and dying for a kiss.

It’s a shtick, it’s a suit You pull
on, some ties cinch Your neck
and some Your wrists, finger

Kali and Medusa’s’ slit,
sit with the karma,
mala beads and the moisture

of Your breath, in this moment
You clench and release and breathe

and breathe.
and breathe.

And

b
r
e
a
t
h
e.

Weeping Buddha

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About radiantspleen

The dark side of enlightenment, the light side of endarkenment.
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