Wednesday, April 12, 2017

Zen Boa

Think about not thinking
Think about laying a flat layer of blank, a nothingness  path
through all that something.
Watch time as it gambols and dances
or lolls about and naps in the sun
-or what until recently used to be sun but is now
indistinguishable from the rest of the void.
You’d think the vacuum would make it difficult to breathe
but the opposite is true, you find yourself taking deep, fulfilling breaths
of the absence of oxygen, of any sort of gas at all.
You carry a list of names for things that no longer exist,
there are now only the words, some of them beautiful,
some of them sounding lost and somewhat ridiculous now that
they've been separated from the objects or ideas they once stood for.
You get tired of carrying the list
and you let it fall toward what used to be the ground,
no longer solid beneath what are no longer your feet.
When you are ready, close your eyes
and picture a shape, a spiral,
feel it wrap around you, embracing you
with its coils, a snake of cloud, of less than cloud,
of mist, of not even air.
Feel that emptiness squeeze you tight
and unhinge its jaws
and swallow you whole,
as you swallow it whole, each of you
disappearing inside the other 
until you're gone

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