Ordinary Sutras
Con/Jur/d 7/24/2020
Struggling with ordinary
Sutras — Now my tooth pain is
Gone and my foot hurts — Old age
An unexpected blessing.
Ordinary Things
Con/Jur/d March 200?
Last night,
As you told me this morning
You dreamed of rainbow-hued dragonflies
Seven feet long
a difficult sleep
in your grandmother’s house while New
England squirrels
scratched inside
the walls.
Last night I had a hard time sleeping
afraid of a new era of insects
come once again,
generated from ebony clouds
stacking against the sunset of our
drowning world.
I worried how the giant earwigs
and bloodsuckers would treat my child
and her children,
woken repeatedly by the triumphant
squeak of vermin finding new _______________
___________________________ paths
in the walls.
Was this what he meant by ‘archaic revival?’
Among those present, with certainty, the rate of
measurable coincidence, and perceived crypto-
allegiance is replicating like lice and mice in
bleak houses and yards of too lazy, too cozy
to become feral cats, and always summer dogs.
What would a jingle for the Oversoul sound like?
The gale of mythic dragon scales rubbing together
in easterly harmonies,
or the hallucinations produced
by nerves singing their ‘freedom’ from embodied
and castrated cults of cultural conformity.
Today, fifty years of domesticated caring arrived.
Beneath art-deco lamps, precious collectible china,
and clothes from thirty-year-old fashion was a desk,
my name attached and printed bold upon yellow scrap
with a light blue magic marker-
A future place, now used,
for poetry, work, meditation
and, with luck, microprocessed daylight dreams.
In the bottom drawer, amid old leather gloves and
purses, a historical collection of playing cards (even
a bridge deck from a dental lab) and commemorative
knick-knacks was a polished walnut cigar case,
wrapped in purple velvet, of a family member’s ashes.
How ordinary it was, for me to be surprised as I pried
it free, my memory is of a small woman filled with
life and love,
The box was heavier than I expected.
Until next time. (Could, someone, please, pull-this?)
Con/Jur/d